


My blood, your blood

by vhis



Category: Black Dagger Brotherhood - J. R. Ward
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Canon Compliant, Death, First Kiss, Love, M/M, Need, Sex, twists and turns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 64,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vhis/pseuds/vhis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few hours after the scene at the Commodore and then what happens in the Pit between the two of them. <br/>"The only noise I hear is my man’s voice over the phone, slightly excited. Maybe he believes I agree with him. That death by fight is a choice. That we’ll have each other’s backs out there on the streets. That things will go back to our normal. No cop, I can’t erase your destiny and the news about your father. Both reasons for you to want revenge and more nights on the streets. I can’t take back what happened to Marissa and I can’t take back the way I felt when I touched you. I can only give you choice."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> My first piece of fanfiction on the subject.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the fictional world you will read about in this story. All copyrighted properties belong to their legal owners.  
> This is just something I imagined for two amazing characters.  
> Warning: The work is not beta read, slang was a bitch to do and English is not my first -or second- language, so you know the drill: forgive.  
> Thank you for smok-I mean reading. Now scroll down and begin.

Night 1

Maybe white needs some colour. And birds need some fingers to stand on, to chirp happily for other ears too. The Other side is literally the „other” for everyone else. She stays here waiting. Never until now did she realize how lonely waiting is, even for a deity. Or maybe she hides. The events, the natural order, was disturbed by an angel, sent by a forgotten – or deliberately removed from  memory – Father, with a blurry task that nevertheless interfered with the plan. HER plan, the Dheal.

„Dheal with me, my sister,” the shadow offered, reading her like it always did when she forgot to put up the shield. She forgets that often now. Loneliness does that.

„Move closer,” she urges him and sends the thought that this is more like an order rather than need to have him close.

„You offend me. And me, thinking I inherited the bad manners in the family. Oh well, I think our collaboration is possible because of this. This little signs you show me that say we are made from the same clay.”

“Your bold assumptions are not welcomed here. Do not forget this is my home.”

“And a vast place indeed. I can see that now, with it so deserted of all those lovelies. I knew you were alone the moment you said we should meet here.”

“My children are -”

“All fine and …how do they say…dandy, yes, dandy, on the other side. With their petty lives and conflicts and deformed concept of justice.”

“They all have my blessing to be there.”

“I could teach you something about coercing. I see they already know the little technique. Obviously, it requires a very indulgent Mother. That son of yours-”

“See your place, shadow!”

“Oh, don’t be mad, I have all my respect for you. Ever since our little plan, our Dheal, took form, you had time to feed your beloved birds and listen to this beautiful fountain. And my home, dark as it is, receives less visitors. My lessers are very well trained in following orders. I hope you make sure your rather violent sons are doing the same.”

“They will not hunt your aberrations as long as they don’t make noise. We agreed some human lives can be sacrificed. As long as discretion is in their minds, the undead can spread their disease.”

“Oh, but it is quiet. The fighting is more of a sport for YOUR sons. My undead slaves like doing things … in the shadow.”

“Hiding is a trait of yours, brother.”

“And a sharp tongue is yours. The dheal works, even if time is irrelevant for us, down there, a month passed uneventful. So why calling me now?”

“My son.”

“Our greatest problem, see? Or more like yours. Your children, the two …demigods, must be really disappointed in you.”

“Don’t be so confident you have or even deserve the safety of this frail peace, nor am I confident I hold them within the binds of my rules.”

“I’m only confident you’ll keep them busy enough for the dheal to become secured and forever.”

“I do. Only that-“

“Doubt doesn’t suit you.”

“My daughter found a mate.”

“As long as her memories are still within your power, she holds no interest to me.”

“You forget I never utter words for the winds to carry. My daughter’s chosen is a human. A human close to YOUR biggest reason to fear. The reason that brought upon the thought of this truce.”

“Dhestroyer…and his brother.”

“Yes, we both looked away from him and his peaty human life. Now, he finds a way into the Brotherhood, as a mate to my daughter. Dhestroyer is…troubled, the thought of a father conjures doubt and shadows in his mind. He has only one to ask for comfort.”

“Your son.”

“Yes. That part of their destiny we cannot change.”

***

Smooth sheets struggle to release themselves from my hands. Fire. Contain fire. Restrain the power with mind. Doesn’t work, fuck this, not again. Veins pulse under the weight of blood. Blood boils under the pain of a vision. Another shity merry-go-round of images (reference: Kodak-invented the first photo carousel). Focus, leave out big-brain-fucker encyclopedia details. Butch would make acid comment. Butch.

V’s head kicks back against the pillow and he feels the damned tattoo pouring light into the room. The second time tonight.

Focus. The Pit, my bedroom, Jane out (no indentation on the right side-her side-mated male, that’s me, with a side for his mate). Focus. Look at the candles, determine for how long I slept. Degree of melt residue 20% (maybe 23, hard to focus) so about 3 hours sleep. Too long. Left the Computers on standby (can hear the low hum), ready to resume work. Focus on the job, stop the new vision smack down (at any cost). Gather data.

Tonight’s vision-after the “good night and good luck” sleep: Tohr and the shrouded female (Xhex’s mother- _does she know that?_ don’t care) end up together. Extent of the vision-one year. But then the vision changes and they don't. like fucking interference on a tv signal. Still, original presumption that new visions now related to other moments than deaths: confirmed. Relief (maybe the recurring vision of Butch is just a dream-hope). Keep hope in check (hope makes me weak) focus on prevention.

Butch. The same images, every time I close my eyes. Since that day. Same terror and exploding insides (hand goes to heart on instinct, insides still intact, for a smart guy I’m an idiot for checking every fucking time). Shitload of nothing when trying to open up and see his future.

 Tonight, my 7th try. Same conclusion, same damn scene. Forget it; concentrate on keeping the glove intact-breathe. Breathing is overrated, need some Goose. Resume Pit inspection from horizontal –my head still sore, will maintain this face-up, back on silk position.

 Butch is still out, last seen 3 hours ago (3 hours, 12 mintes-I’m not counting, I just know). I can hear the silence (Butch never quiet when he fuc-interrupt string of thought now!) and the hour means he’s already in the church. Safe place. Good, Manello can’t protect him (Butch doesn’t need protection, get that into your head. Hard.)

Manello (recently discovered brother-half brother-the cause for a change in Butch? Maybe, maybe not the only reason-needs more inquiry). Probably the same church (not probably, definitely, the force of 7 days straight habit). They get along, Manello falls into Butch’s habits (more selfish need to connect to someone in his situation-human-than real sibling bonding, Maybe. Jab of moronic jealousy? No, just worry (keep lying to yourself). Feck! (Irish swearing word, Butch is part Irish and still he goes to a catholic church, maybe the one on Fifth Av., yeah that’s the one).

Try to understand Butch’s reaction tonight. Deteriorated. First impression: after turmoil with me and the…-abandon thought-…he calms only to be hit by the news. Unstable, mild case of PTSD. Later in the week note: the shit with his brother is not all that’s busting his balls. Tonight’s rendez-vous confirms later note. Something else is there. What? Maddening!

Back to point, revisit facts. So Irish catholic cop, deprived of family (I’m his family-NO, rectify- WE all are his family now), learns of a brother the night we get back from (stop line of thought, for fucks sake, stop the memories of the night at the Commodore). Resume: he sees the picture of his vampire father. Can still remember his confused look, asking for my help (big brain comes with perks and curses). The cop is balancing a foot on different sides of a state of mind (too much to absorb, even for his huge stabile self), especially after my S/M victorian damsel rehabilitation session. Fuck, can’t stop memory.

_[…Butch was sitting on the far side of the bed, his back to the door, his head hanging, his heavy shoulders curled in. Vishous stepped inside and closed them in together. Neither Jane nor Marissa was going to show up—both were busy with their jobs. But Fritz and his crew were probably going to sweep through here some time, and that butler, God love him, never even knocked on closed doors. He’d lived here too long._

_“Hey,” V said into the darkness._

_“Hey.”_

_V went forward, rounding the foot of the bed, using the wall to navigate. Lowering his ass onto the mattress, he sat beside his best friend._

_“You and Jane okay?” the cop asked._

_“Yeah. S’all good.” Such an understatement. “She arrived right around the time I woke up.”_

_“I called her.”_

_“I figured.” Vishous turned his head and looked over, even though that hardly mattered in the pitch black. “Thank you for that—”_

_“I’m sorry,” Butch croaked. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.…”_

_The hoarse exhale that came out was a sob barely covered up._

_In spite of being blind, V put his arm out and curled it around the cop. Pulling the male close to his chest, he laid his head down on his buddy’s._

_“It’s okay,” he said roughly. “It’s all right. It’s okay.… You did the right thing.…”_

_Somehow he ended up moving the guy around so that they were stretched out together and he had his arms around the cop…]_

STOP! Focus, remember the way he said he was fine (fine with what? Me, the thing I asked him to do, us, me kissing him?) Don’t go there! Can’t stop.

Memory flow too strong: my room, he waits for me in my room, on my bed. Fast forward: his head on my chest, me trying really hard to make my beats regular. Marathon style pounding in my ears, I wonder if he hears them (vampire hearing 180% better than human’s –he can hear it). He says nothing. So much gratitude and relief I can burst. Can’t help but smile and the bastard knows. He seems to figure me out better in the dark –maybe because for so long I kept him in the dark about my feelings-strange.

He tells me I can’t laugh right now. “Seriously man, I thought we had a brotherly moment here”, he risks a joke. It feels forced and he takes it back. “No, go ahead, I get it.”

He’s quiet except for the truck wheels turning in his head. I ignore the damping of my shirt. At some point in the past, he ignored my weakness too. He wants me relieved, it calms him. And I understand it was hard for him too, so I let him break.

After some time (impossible to tell how much, too absorbed) the long strings of muscles (trapezius muscle, deltoid and triceps brachii) relax under my hand (my cursed hand-he’s the only one able to relax when touched by it-he’s the only one I can heal with it, the process heals me too). I leave the candles unlit so he knows I want him to know me all, so I can’t lie to him with the masks I often use (he deserves better). Bliss.

Only a closed space (30 by 30 feet, I know, I have all the blueprints of the house), kept in the dark and it feels like coming home. My best friend is still my savior. That’s why I fuck up and I relax, I let my mind slip, and my instincts take over. Fuck Darwin, I’m still a dumb ass animal, maybe I’ll rewrite the fucking Evolution theory, start with vamps being the …abandon blabbering.

Without me controlling them, my fingers massage his neck. He feels warm and comfortable. Maybe it’s still my imagination. Silence. My lips form his name and I curse myself because I can feel his exhale on my face (0.7 inch separate us, I know how far the air from his lungs travels when he’s relaxed, I know every breath he takes, I listened for it many times after the open-inhale-bye-bye parties for the lessers). I have nothing to say that wasn’t said (so why call his name?). My body answers before my mind and I kiss him: Butch, dry, warm, salted, needed, puzzled, lax (almost indistinctively firms lips for 0.3 seconds-or my shity refurbished brain imagined it).

Rewiring of brain succeeds and I snap into fucking sense. I say thank you (honest, warm voiced, even if the insides are burning) and send him off with a joke. Wait for 3 seconds, he responds with a friendly punch. Still, a muscle hurts, not pectoralis major (pecs V, say pecs) but one obscure papillary muscle in my freakishly six-chambered heart - I may be a pussy. Need time to evaluate the primeval reaction to him. Light the candles and realize it’s been 3 hours here with him. Should consider lobotomy. Freaking out! Unusual for me (well, at least for my old self-I must be getting old and senile).

Brain already finds explanation for calming of self: vulnerability, partial stupidity and sappiness after highly traumatizing and still, highly efficient treatment by his hands ending up in sex with Jane. Super charged vampire hormones. Yeah, the explanation worked for me, as long as the cop had one for himself we were cool.

Small moment of panic before meeting his eyes. Hazel brown lazy liquid shows evidence: he found an excuse for me. I’m saved from my own stupidity. Again, by him (was I disappointed for a moment? refuse to consider this). I had my friend back, myself back and all synapses back in the game. Mine, in overdrive. Checkered flag for reason, green for the mother of all headaches. Can’t tell him this. Still can’t talk about it with anyone. One week of Energizer Vishous and nobody knows. Been there, done that before. Only now I’m not slipping away, I’m as high as it goes. Keep it on the down low. If nothing else is just my biz, my brain is (shit, now I remember in rhymes).

Blurry, verdammt useless brain, give me details, not philosophical opinions (stop using foreign curse words- not foreign for me) and go back on track. Get back in the fucking now and train of thought. So…

  [ _hours alone together, parted awkwardly and taken separate showers. Fortunately, though, the hot water had been a reset. Met up again in the Pit’s kitchen, it had been business as usual. And shit had remained that way. It felt like we had fought a battle together, and were sporting the stress fractures and the fading black-and-blues to prove it._ ]  

Fine and dandy. That is until Fate gave Butch the finger-up-take-this-handle-it welcome back party. The cop flat lines as he discovers the brother, a human brother and sees the photo (note to self: create program based on Euler’s totient functions to search the parameters of the male face in archives). Back to subject.

Robert Bluff: the father, a sperm spreading, benevolent doctor-posing bluff. Manello: the brother. Now in church with Butch. Payne’s mate (thought-ask Payne about the cop’s father as soon as you have a vampire name). Nothing to explain my permanent light bulb state-really?-May be necessary to retrace that night and the distinct factors involved: Commodore-Butch-Jane-Butch again-Manello. Map the syllogism. Conclusions needed: why my sudden enlightenment? Why Butch’s sudden light’s off. Irony.  

***

“I think I inherit the twisted sense of irony of our Great father. The plots and twists of this destiny of the Vishous Healer and the once human Dhestroyer would be delightful if not for the … little inconvenience of our own existence being played.”

“I foresaw the path my son would take after I birthed him. But he is strong and so very-“

“Unbearably disobedient?”

“So very disturbed. And now, the reason I called upon you. Vhisous, son of the Bloodletter and mine, awakens. I can feel his power grow.”

“Maybe it will drive him mad. What once happened will come to pass again.”

“I wish my son no harm-“

“And still we plotted to keep him in the dark.”

“He is happy now.”

“Happy servants are obedient servers. He does not seem to know the meaning of obedience. You know, sister mine, these are disturbing news. If the half-human lit the spark in Dhestroyer and your son helps him, soon your daughter, asked by her mate, will let herself in his deadly hand and she will remember what we so long ago planned.”

“So many IF’s …”

“I could say I miss the times when our word was law, but in my circle, I am the master. You, sister mine, have the responsibility to keep this situation in control. Our Dheal is unbreakable. Keep Dhestroyer away from me and I will keep my lesser away from your precious diminished race.”

“And foremost, keep them away from my son and daughter. No one can touch them. Events will be buried by new ones and sparks will die unlit.”

“Or we’ll make sure they will. Won’t we?”

 Silence struck birds fly past the two specters and white marble reflects dark intentions. The Scribe Virgin lifts a robed hand and a golden-white, red pick bird falls.

“You can tell yourself it is sleeping. Now give it to me and let this be the end of another meeting. You know, 300 years ago, after your little … adventure, the Father told you of the consequences of the prophecy and you came to me. Ever since we stay in our little places and do the best for our… sons. And now, in so little time, this is the second meeting we have. I am a shadow, I can easily recognize one approaching.”

“Things will be the way they were.”

“Yes, we have so much time to make that happen.”

“Go now, take your price and leave me to my-“

“-loneliness? Yes, I go back to loneliness myself. Only I can take any of my sons to … sweeten it.”

“Begone shadow!”

  “My… my … sister. My, my,” the sinister reptilian voice whispered in cold mockery.

The white tree swayed and died for one moment before her hand touched it’s feather soft leafs.

I am alone, my burden so heavy and so necessary for my existence. For which my son must pay without even knowing, be grateful for what is given to him and forgetting what must stay forgot.

 

***

The name of his father. I told my boy a week ago all he needed to do was ask. Tonight he did (why now?). A week he avoided me (did he? Maybe just overwhelmed-I should consider paranoia).

Marissa manages the expansion of the Safe House (keep that in mind for the security check) and no stink breeze L’eau de lesser for us to chase. Calm and quiet, everywhere but in my head. Maddening. Empowering.

Fewer patrols, too many instruction hours taking over Rhage and Z. Family time for them. (think about Jane). I crawled into her today after the first Meal and she welcomed me the moment I touched her skin. Light sleep (for her, none for me). Wake her up to do some visits, I promised. She leaves me with a worried look. Maybe she knows (better question is what – I don’t know either). We’re fine now, she and I, like I told the cop. It’s more his credit than mine.

My cuckoo asylum state leaked slowly but surely into the glass of water he left behind at the penthouse for me to see. Heart clenches into a mass of hot blood and lip twisting muscles. I felt like a devoted Christian finding out his God made water into wine. Butch took water and gave me back my blood (metaphor-not my area, insert a “fuck” to regain male confidence). Fuck.

Right after her Butch comes home (I keep calling the Pit home-I did that before him? Can’t remember). Walks in, sincere eyes stare me down. I know he’s not entirely here.

“S’up man. Feels like we haven’t talked in ages,” he says, eyeing the bottle of Lag. Short moment of indecision. His well behaved self decrees “No booze before church”. I smile-he smiles back. Remember to answer the unasked question. “All cool cop, you have another family member now to give you gray hairs. Male bonding shit and all that. I get it, true?”

“Family”…-he hesitates, still a tender subject, change it. “And I check the foosball table every now and then. Still no cobwebs, so I can guarantee it hasn’t been more than a week”. He stares at the brown/green battle ground we share. He misses it too. Rods flip and the mechanic sound takes place of the voices and images inside my head. Relief again.

“Off to church? Nice set up.” Obvious tantalizing, he’s in a plain white tee and jeans –not his usual out-wear. Fashion whore.

“Yeah. Mhm..what? No, no…Don’t fuck with me V,” late reaction, preoccupied.

“Spill it cop, the monster truck competition in your head might damage you for good.”

“You said you can find the guy..the…my…”

“Say the words cop. And I’m on it.”

“Find him.” His determination takes me aback. Sharp brown eyes turn this into a private conversation, with all the distance between us and all the world outside the walls. “Let me know V, let me know.”

The room warms to another 10 degrees after he leaves. Maybe it’s me (this isn’t day-to-day Butch and it’s infuriating). Hard to say why this would bother him so much, my father experience wasn’t quite the same (I would prefer not knowing the bastard). Must be something else. Wait for him to tell me.

Ten minutes later he’s out the door, shouting a “Later V, we got patrol” and refusing me a very good jab about his Olympic success to get dressed so fast. Instead I sketch the cop’s father’s picture in lines of code and press Search. Hate beginnings. Maddening wait, head feels like splitting open-again.

Another wave of visions, drop dead on the bed and then the moment 5 minutes ago when I wake up to consciousness (fuck me, I do way too much thinking per minute).

Now get the fuck up. Replace the glove (another melted one), headache bearable. Tell Jane about them, respect your promise. Still, medicine can’t help, I researched it. Obvious cause: increase in vision intensity and frequency (my bitch of a mother must be thrilled). Take the hand-rolled from the nightstand (inventory: lighter-gold, phone-Jane’s, 10:28 pm-as thought, my phone-no new nothing). Light up, scratch the goatee (I may need to shave this off, too much trouble-put aside for later consideration). Get on the shirt lying on the floor (mine, in Jane’s use when she’s in her body). Smile-need to see her. Frown-need to get that fucking name for Butch.

Text Jane: “Need to work, yup, again. U? C u in bed.”

Finger on the inside of the glass, cold glass. Fill with clear Goose, feels the liquid as it flows inside. Enough. Get your butt to work. He asks a name from me. Call me useless and dress me in tights if I won’t make my Toys worth the in-your-face-NASA reputation.  

My head plays the rap of my choice even before I turn it on. The gift given to the fucking Scribe Virgin’s son. Hooray to me!


	2. II

II

Night 1

“Payne, I texted Butch 10 minutes ago to tell him I’ll miss church tonight and got jack in reply.”

“Want me to talk to V?”

“The guy must be in church already and has the phone on silent. He said we’ll meet there. Doubt your brother will find him. Just tell him to say sorry for me when they meet up for patrol.”

“Of course. You are leaving.”

“Yeah, house call with Jane. At the Safe House. Marissa needs help with a free consult night.”

“Be safe.”

“No worries. Your brother installed the new security system. The bank of England is small business.”

“He does that. I’ll text him about Butch.”

***

Blinding neutral lights, like scalpels in my eyes. Symptom of the headaches: sensitivity to light. Jane will be surprised – like her smile when taken by surprise, remember to do that more often. My Toys work on the archives. Code much simpler to develop – consequence of the good kind of the pumped-up brain routine lately. Text: Manny misses tonight’s church night, tell Butch he’s sorry and they will talk when you get back from patrol. Be safe, brother mine. P”

Time to spare – 40 minutes. Rhage’s estimation. I’d say 30, because the cop leaves the church every night at 11.50. Meretricious deduction: church closer to watch zone than previous nights, 4 streets instead of the over 10 standard, Butch angry driving, so 30 minutes, back alley of Tourniquet. Thought: go alone, Rhage can dematerialize there, have 10 minutes with the cop (why need them? don’t know). It must be a gut feeling (consider reformulating stupid expression, long way from accurate, give up, no one can hear me inside my head anyway). Still, decide to go wait for Butch there. Decided.

Jane prepares the out bag. So house calls for her. I should be worried, her out alone. I’m not. The half blessing, half curse of being a ghost: out of reach when in need. Except for my hands, where she still fits like a dream. Fuck, I might as well start writing soppy poems to her. Self bantering-I do it a lot these days.

My shitkickers –the only real noise I make, and on purpose this time – turn her attention to me. Cautious eyes evaluate me – in that aspect, we’re alike. 8 seconds for her to convince herself I’m not injured, mad or did something stupid. I should kick myself for being so easy to read (I don’t).

“V. Unless you have a bed with you, this is an unplanned visit.”

“I may have one. Hell, I’ll steal one if you’re down with the plan.” She laughs, shakes her head. Understands it’s just a joke. My head –neither of them-, not really in THAT game.

“If we would go there, I’d miss my house call” – knew she had to get out (Yu-hu, give yourself a prize for being a smart-ass conceited fortune teller). “And you’ll miss Butch.”

Snap into focus, new route. Reason of detour: they way she says “miss Butch”. Stare her down, look for signs. None. Realize what she meant by that: I’ll miss the get together with the guys on patrol. Still, it makes me rewind the whole night. Images of Butch. Stop. Continue light talk, imply sex, ensure she can’t see you dumbfounded over what she said.

“I have 30 minutes,” she knows what I imply, seriously this time, because my cock just had a “wake-up soldier! yes sir!” moment and stands in expectation. Consider hypothesis: maybe the brain overcharge is catching to other part of the body.  

“Don’t give yourself so little credit. You can last longer.” She smiles a devilish smile and closes the space between us. Good, I need the distraction. Cup the back of her head, lean forward, smell her neck (urge: to take her vein, wish she could take mine). The thought sends two more milliliters of blood down south. I’m hard, can’t pinpoint the moment when it started to get painful, push into home base anyway.

Thought of taking a vein lingers. Impossible with her, she’ll keep me a vascular virgin. Someone feeding out of me …-I’m able to stop the images moment I sense the thought spark. (No, not him, you perverted fuck!) Shaft twitches.

Back on track: Jane. A smooth hand covers my arm (left one – she unconsciously looks for my curse). Like Butch (mental slap – need to stop thinking about the cop). Focus. Too late, she saw it. Second mental slap, it triggers another fucking head-ache (good to know I can hurt myself with a simple head slap, try practicing on others). She stares. My open book, out with the bad, good little hellren combo not easy to follow. I failed.

“You’re worried about him.”

 _Obviously-_ my mind instinctively answers, like to a child who had the brilliant insight the green car is green. Mentally rolls eyes at the unnecessary quick and smartass reaction. Must be the pressure in my head, causing me a case of bastardinitis (make up word, fucking concentrate to answer her). Distract her, repay the nasty thought. Take her earlobe into my mouth. Suck. Answer her non-question. “Nah, we cool. The guy can handle himself. King lineage, hardass cop and shit.”

I start congratulating myself for the ice cold attitude –

“You don’t need to hide it. I understand.”

 Smack to the face. Three reactions to her two statements. 1. Annoyance – dislike to be talked down too. 2. Worry- how fucking obvious am I and why? 3. Puzzlement – what is it that she understands? I’m in the mother fucking dark. Clarify.

”We’re past that, Jane. (Avoidance is good, I’m in no fucking mood to talk about what happened, it’s between him and me). She’ll get the drift, she IS that smart.

“Are we seriously talking about the same guy? Marissa asked for bruises patch-up oil the second time today. Tomorrow she’ll pick up her consult results and she’ll probably need a refill. And she looks not better, as she should considering the decision, but worse. So I don’t think Butch is ok, and if he IS while with you, give the guy a punching bag that fights back and wake him up to smell the daisies, because the shit he must be doing is not healthy.”

Full stop. Her words, like a train. That makes me a fucktastic train wreck.

***

Phone on silent, leathers inconspicuous at this hour, and sober as an iceberg. Yup, obey the divine laws, even if you’re an aberration. Check this shit out. And if this isn’t irony, then V can hit him with the whole dictionary right across the puss. Fuck, not V again. But hey, the irony stands- a vampire in a church and no fire. Kind of cold even. At least, his hands are cold. And still a little bruised. Where the fuck is his broth...Manny? After six days straight of standing next to each other in a cold deserted church, you would think the fucker learned the holy hour.

Well, maybe I’m early. Hell, he stormed out of his room dressing on the go just to avoid V. Not much hope for a clean getaway now. Soon he’ll meet the guy again on a patrol, with Rhage. Can’t stay out here hidden for much longer. “I’m not hiding,” he repeats himself for the hundredth time and huffs at the craziness of telling yourself lies hoping you’ll believe them.

Every time he sees the male he shits himself fearing he’ll let out what he feels. About Marissa, about them, about …

Butch lowers his head into his hands and tries. And tries some more. But no freaking way you could erase a thought without taking the head down. Or maybe V could …well shit, ain’t that just Not-the-way-to-stop-the-thoughts king of thing to do? V again.

Truth be told, every muscle in him craved for a fight. Dirty kind of fight, the one that leaves black lessers blood behind. Or the one V could supply him with and let him live at the end. Same muscles twitching like the night he went out with his man to do the thing needed done and only he could do it. Well, maybe others could have too, but no way in hell he could let anyone else near Vishous. The session fixed the male. For Butch, it was the start of a very jolly string of “fuck the cop’s sanity” tour.

The thing with V lit the short fuse. That night was a trip to hell.

Sure he called Jane to come take care of her mate after the session. Sure he tried for half an hour to distance himself from V’s penthouse. The wall downstairs in the parking lot took a pounding – it had it coming- and the moment he felt Jane’s scent over V’s, he nearly went back to bite her head off. Disgusted with himself he went back to the Pit, and instead of calling Marissa and use another method to erase V from his mind, he started to work over a way to dilute the blood in his veins with Lag. Same effect as jerking off with vinegar for lube.

 It wasn’t the bat shit crazy correction method that got him jumpy. Nope, it was the thought that V, a male of worth, his best friend, had mountains and prairies and oceans of shit mapping his insides. All because some whore loving, blood thirsty vamp decided to fuck his brains from birth. And that bitch of a mother – yeah, I get to call her that – makes herself a goddess and in the process forgets to put in her disco-light body one tinny detail: a heart.

He felt hate like never before. Being a vampire must alter the perception on things, because man, he never felt so raging mad.

He has to give it to the male; it took a lot of balls to hang in there with all this pilling up his wind pipe. No wonder he needed to break him. Cracks can be fixed, but starting over is easier and V saw the logic in that. The guy must use huge parts of his huge brain to will glue into the cracks. (Wonder if he can teach me that. No, don’t think so). Because after that night seven days ago, he feels like cartoon Tom, sporting bullet holes, visible once some liquid goes in. Fucking sprinkler freak show. That’s him, leaking pussy cat.

Leaving V in that bed at his place, vulnerable – and it’s a fucking sacrilege to use this word to describe V- felt like nuclear implosion. Bye-bye reason, hello possessiveness. And if it ain’t the mother of all contradictions, that the target of all his bad temper was himself.

His mind tells him a fight will do. Or even a rough two hours with a certain milky skinned female (but that feels too much like cheating). His blood tells him the only relief comes with the sound of crushed bones under his hands. Feel of skin burning in the squeeze, veins cracking, eyes fixed in his and the judgment passed onto the victim: This, you pervert mother fucker, is for Vishous. The Bloodletter would see his end coming, red capillaries blowing up in his eyes and asking, like any other worm “Why?”

Fuck me if I know the answer.

Butch clenches his fists, relaxes them, clench again. Can’t keep messing with his hair – one more run over with his fingers and he might turn bald- and his face skin…well, he still needs that, you know, if only for something to bruise in a fight. Oh, a fight! He can swear the Lessening Society put its 3 neurons together and figured a way to drive him mad: peace. Apply the quiet technique, let the Dhestroyer rot without his job of choice and celebrate his institutionalization (props for me and the coherence of even being able to use this fucking long word). Even without the sucking party trick he did, enough dark mojo sizzles inside of him.

Every muscle in him – V could name them all – asked for his PTSDered self to use the new found force. He was a vampire because V made him one. Yeah, he was the bastard son of a big-hearted doctor with a nurse fetish, but V made him what he was, stitching him up, piece by piece, with faith and his demigod blood.

Maybe it made sense for him to feel like he needs to travel back in time and take charge of killing the bastard that did V wrong. Maybe a bigger brain and some super powers could clarify that. The reason he went to wait for V that night in the guy’s room. He felt like his room was suffocating him, the thought of Marissa and the injustice he did her by being such a fucked up freak about V pressing on him. He needed to get things straight. V could do that. Bring logic into it. So he went and waited to ask forgiveness, ask him why he felt the way he did.

What kind of freaky connection was the one they had? The moment he saw V –or more like felt him, well sexed up and relieved- was the party breaker. No matter how much his hormones or whatever screamed from inside, he let it at that. The thing he did that night was to make V whole again. His crybaby problems can stay on hold, can be fixed with a cold shower. Because V needed a break.

_[“Don’t ask me to do that again anytime soon,” the cop said._

_“Deal.”_

_“Still. If you need it … come to me.”]_

And then the cherry to a melting cake. V kis…kiss…-say it fucker- kissed me. The cop’s insides went into shut down. But the male then made it all seem like nothing, so it must have been the reaction of a happy, sappy even V, the scars free 300 old vampire. He let that drop too. After a night like they had, he figured normality between them was out of reach. V didn’t promise he won’t need another…correction. But later sounds better than sooner.

The cop is not sure if he can do it again, but the thought of someone else doing those things to V, things asked and to the limit, the thought just…ups, now the bench took a pounding. The wood wrinkles into a deformed imprint of his fingers.

“Mother of God,” the cop smoothes the surface and wraps his fingers tight into a zigzag pattern. Flesh, muscles and blue swollen veins.

V supposed to be his rock. That was their deal. When you can’t fight, I’ll do it for you and vice versa. And here he was, hiding – not hiding!- every day and night, avoiding V because the male needed peace and quiet and his fucked-up self might give something away if in the same room for more than 10 minutes with him. His smart self decided to keep things bottled up. All the shit in his life, pull the rug, bury them under. Marissa, his newfound family member Manello, the still John Doe one.

So, he was a 7 day walking talking bruise –knuckles pumping punches in the gym and sanity taking hits in the bedroom-and by now every brother saw him like a soap opera angst loving damsel. Lucky they all assumed the cause for it all was the “hello, bastard brother, I’m the other bastard son of this bastard vamp named Bluff”.

Only THAT wasn’t the reason. That news was the main course, at a dinner with V as nuclear based appetizer –yeah, imagine that- and Marissa for H bomb dessert.  

Man, his Marissa…how fucked up can he, what kind of a male, to do THIS to her?

“Fuck this. I’m gonna get me a fight!”

***

Jane waits for some reaction from me. Butch hurting himself. Something bigger than his father biz. Fuck. My mate goes from relaxed to anxious. Inhale. Calm down.

Rewind: earlier tonight, Butch coming into the Pit. Details, remember details. Uneasy eyes, hesitant look –irrelevant now, focus on the hands. Strong, not cursed, clenching, unclenching (how the fuck did I miss that?). Inside of the wrist smooth, bluish veins, rising with tendon ridges wonder when that skin was last pierced, what it taste…). Freak, focus (I can’t go back to that. Inconceivable). Resume. His arms play the relax-don’t-do-it game. Can’t fool me (oh wait, it did – I’m an idiot). Sleeves high on his shoulders, small movements of his neck (wrong way, move memory search to hands). There. Bruises. Mother fucker.

Left hand – squeeze into a fist. Anger: at Jane for her words, at me for being angry at her for her words, at Butch for not coming to me, at me for not going to him, at Marissa for telling Jane something, at me for not paying fucking attention to know what the goddamn this something is. Prediction: 45 seconds to hand on fire routine, 1 minute to bye-bye Vienna.

“I know he’s messed up about his brother, but having a new family must trump the shock of the revelation and his lose. Marissa wanting and preparing to give him a son should be- ”

My brain computes new data like the first Intel model. Jane becomes translucent and moves away. Can’t understand. In her eyes, the reflection of a massive white light. It’s me. Glowing like Las Vegas. She’s frightened.

“What?!” the word slips from me in a hoarse breath.   

 “You didn’t know…”

Again, OBVIOUSLY.

“V…easy. It’s ok.”

She doesn’t believe it herself. “Then why defensive Jane? Think I might hurt you?” my voice is million degrees colder than my body. She touches me and instantly her flesh cools the spot she touches.

“I’m not afraid of you. Ever.”

I almost believe her. Almost is enough. Chill Hulk. Reason before mayhem.

“Since when do you know?”

“Marissa came to me the day after Manny showed Butch the photo of his father. She said they talked. Her needing period is close and she wants to breed. A baby for them, a family for Butch. One there for him.”

“He HAS a family.”

“Come on V. You and I agree on the baby issue, but for others it’s a blessing. The Brotherhood is not enough. His mate can give him a blood family. It may cure a lot of old wounds in him.”

I want to say I cure him, but me being all possessive is insane.

“His sister’s death anniversary …it’s tomorrow. I can understand he has a lot on his mind, but the thought of …”

“Yeah…not the way the cop’s mind works. I gotta go.”- like 5 minutes ago. And how the fuck did the little info about his sister slip my mind? Senile, I tell you.

“V-“

“A week Jane. S’all I’m saying. Can’t dance a dance when only one tries to do the fucking moves Jane. I thought we clear on that. After Payne-“

“-Hold on! It’s not the same thing. Was I wrong to assume you know everything about Butch? You’re like a suffering shadow of his bruised self. One week? You changed too. Exactly one week V. If this wasn’t it, then-“

“Not now.”

“Vishous!”

“See that big elephant in the middle of the room? It’s me. I need space. And you’re right: it’s not your fault. It’s mine.” 

“Answer me this V. Did something else happen at the Commodore?”

“Now why the fuck would you even...”

“Did something else-”

“NO! Not one motherfucking thing. And YOU sent me there.”

“I would do it again. I don’t regret it, it brought me YOU. I’m just trying to understand this. We can’t go back to what we went through. ”

Can’t think anymore. Too much breaking news. I’m never surprised by anything. Get out. Now, before you open your filthy mouth again. I turn, I get out. My shitkickers make no sound. I must be pissed (well what a shocker dickhead, epic revelation, does it hurt to be so smart?). Erase everything. Exception: Butch.

 


	3. III

Night 1

“New orders tonight. Our master commands that the brother with the freaky hand is off limits.”

“I thought all the pumped bloodsuckers are. We’re playing hide and seek with them now. Daytime bussiness only, lookouts at night-”

“Yeah, well shut the fuck up and listen, or I’ll rip the heart still beating inside you and serve you as dinner entertainment for our master. Don’t forget I can find another human to be Santa’s little helper.”

“Yes sir.”

“Like I said, even if we cross paths with the gang – and we will, you know they keep eyes on the usual places - and we can’t avoid fighting, the one with the eyes and hand will not be touched. But orders are we take down the ex-human.”

“Dhestroyer? We’ll never get him alone.”

“Who said anything about getting him alone? We’ll let them come to us. You heard how much the brother likes inhaling us. Well, by us I mean my kind. We’re like candies to a child. Let him come and take him down. Bringing humans into the game will be a nice surprise for them. I bet he won’t even touch you. The omega says he has a …conscience. Dumb ass half-breed. ”

“We need a plan.”

“Oh, I have a plan. This is for your ears only, Judd.”

“Yes sir.”

“From now on, we go on our… business meetings in groups of 5 plus 2 backups. If I’m not there, you’ll be there for me. But never the two of us in the same group. We need the other six.”

“For the kind of business we do, it’s a fucking crowd.”

“Maybe, but for Dhestroyer, 4 or five of us going in are a …mouth full without healing.”

“You mean-“

“Exactly what you heard. One of us and a group of irresistible appetizers for the vacuum brother. We turned a lot of new recruits, let’s put them to use. What better way to show their gratitude to our master, than being the final lethal dose to our greatest threat?”  

“Might work.”

“Bet your still working cock it will. You just make sure that in a fight the others don’t puff back to our creator by the blades of the brothers.”

“I won’t disappoint you sir.”

“Oh I know. You like a dirty fight, don’t you Judd? That’s why I picked you boy. Stay close to me and we’ll make this fucking city our playground. You did well to join us. And I especially like your ass when you pump those whores. Speaking of which, bring that bitch from the cage. I may not get hard, but I’m the forelesser and tonight, before I go out, I need my private show.”

“Sir.”

***

How hard can it be to find a drunken motherfucker looking for a punching bag? As it turns out, harder every day. It’s like all the holly and unholy forces conspire against him. Butch puts the car in park and –yeah- he thinks he found trouble. Or smelled it. Hello, my name is Nice –to-meet-you, now let me see what you got.

He lets the car behind in the narrow alley and skimms his hands up and down his leathers. Itchy, he feels itchy like an ant colony just decided to do some construction work up his as. Clear your head cop, get in the game. I want a fight, not a funeral. Three blond heads walk crowded 15 paces from him.

The alley crawls dirty into a wider space and two more escape routes go from there into the darkness. Tourniquet spills juckheads and sex crazed teenagers from its back door into the right one, 200 m ahead. The four-store building to the right, with a clear vantage point, is where he’ll meet the guys in…20 minutes. Enough time to show some lesser dirt his name is Dhestroyer and he never needs to explain why. A fucking revelation for them every time.

Keep it stealthy; let’s see first what the pale bastards bring to the scenery, because that can’t be a ménage a trois. Impotent lesser with a sex kink, what a stomach spiller. Don’t lose the fuckers, he tells himself as he unconsciously speeds up. Think cop! he urges his mind one more time before his body takes over completely.

Yup, show the middle finger to reason, trash take-out time. One more step from becoming a six foot seven leather revelation in the lesser line of sight. And then impact, a iron crowbar plastered over his upper side, almost stopping his heart.

“Don’t!” the crowbar has a sharp voice, hissed between soft lips. He can feel them near his left earlobe and the killer instinct decides to take a nap, like sedated by that command. Nice way to show you’re the Dhestroyer, fall asleep like a dog when he tells you to. Why don’t you roll over too?

Butch catches the wrist of the mountain on top of him right now and uses more than necessary force to put it away. He can’t breathe. That arm isn’t the only thing that takes away his air. He knows it’s V. Maybe his instincts were focused on something else too hard to feel the guy materialize next to him, or maybe it was V’s freakishly way of moving without a sound, but his instincts were awake now. VERY awake. Awake as in hairs stood up on his back near the hairline where V commanded him to stop. Commanded. Oh, wasn’t that enough to get him started?

“You’re early,” ‘nough said, V can get my drift.

“Nah cop, just in time to catch the program for the mentally disabled.”

“Move V. I don’t need you in my face right now.” Not in my face and not pressed against me.

“Oh I know exactly what you need in your face, cop. Want me to provide? Just ask.”

The male is pissed, the waves radiating out of him in this small space – very small space, suffocating space – make his insides turn. He doesn’t need this. Not V, not before he can unload all the shit he has inside on someone else. Someone who deserves it. If only V could shut up.

“So tell me Butch,” -yeah, not gonna happen- “sneaking on me to get yourself killed or your bruise collection running old? I can make some nasty blacks.”

“I don’t need it from you.” Fuck you very much V, Butch mentally adds and when V turns his face to him, like in slow motion, images start colliding with his brain. Blue rimmed evidence stare right at him. The guy knows exactly what memory will hit him. And God help him, it does.

_[_ _Butch caught his arm as he went to turn away. “What can I do to help.”_

_V had a quick, shocking picture filter through his brain. “Nothing you could handle._

_Unfortunately.”_

_“Don’t do my thinking for me, motherfucker.”_

_V stepped in close, bringing their faces to within an inch of each other. “You don’t have the stomach for it. Trust me.”_

_Those deep hazel eyes held his and didn’t blink. “You’d be amazed what I would do to keep you alive.”_

_Abruptly, V’s mouth opened, his breath growing tight. And as the two of them stood chest-tochest, he knew every inch of his body, felt all of it at once._

_“What are you saying, cop.”_

_“Do you honestly think_ _lessers_ _are a better option,” Butch muttered hoarsely. “At least I can make sure you aren’t dead at the end of it.” Images flickered through his mind, graphically detailed and appallingly perverted. And all of them with him in a starring role._

_After a moment of neither saying a word, Butch stepped off. “Go see your female. I’ll be waiting for you at the Escalade.”_

_“Butch. You don’t mean it. You can’t.”_

_His best friend regarded him coolly. “The fuck I don’t.” Turning away, he strode down the corridor. “Come find me. When you’re ready.”_ _]_

“Butch…”

He knows the male knows. He needs to fucking learn to keep his mouth shut. Good luck with that. A little more than a week ago, V was in his place. Fed up, ready to burst. It was maybe the first step for him in this circles-of-hell tour.

Maybe he should let it all out, but then maybe the dam will burst and half the monsters in his head are not tagged and bagged. Too many things that involve V too. And his former roommate doesn’t need his shit now, when he seems fine.

Hell, he hopes V’s fine, he can’t say that for a fact, he barely looked at the male in the past seven days. But the almost compassionate look in the male’s usually ruthless eyes pisses on his self control. It pisses jalapeno fueled fire.

“V, there’s a little thing called personal space. Look it up. Like over there, five paces away from me. And lose the look. Mother hen routine doesn’t suit you, you feel me?”

V lingers another three seconds – Butch counts them – and then steps aside. His six foot six frame still takes too much of his space. Fuck, he needs to get a grip.

“I’m not going anywhere cop. And you have about 5 minutes to spill it, or we’ll have an audience. I bet he’ll enjoy the show.”

Rhage. Yeah, maybe he’ll bring popcorn.

“Nothing to say, V.” Nothing I can say aloud and not to you. Hell, maybe he can keep his tongue in check after all. Wouldn’t that be a great verbal diarrhea? So V, you remember the night when I got you naked and fucked with your head to unfuck your head and then I waited for you in your room? Ah, and you kissed me and I played dumb and then when I thought I can keep shit inside Manny goes all “Hey bro, this is our father”, another fucker who abandoned me.

Aaaaand I want to forget the fucker exists, because I have all of you now and then Marissa gets all warm and fuzzy and wants a baby and for me to stop fighting. And my thoughts go from wanting you fine and dandy to wanting Marissa happy, and slips into thinking I failed her and maybe cheated on her because I push you away just because, maybe, I feel someth-

“Fine, cop. Stop me when I stop making sense.”

Butch thanks V mentally for stopping his string of thoughts. And focuses on those eerie eyes. What can he possibly know? Click. The fucker takes his time, lighting a hand rolled and checking the alley. The group of lessers is still there somewhere, he can smell them. He might be dumb, but blind…well, you know.      

“I find out I have a sister and my sweet mother is a lying bitch. I take a dive into stupidity and I need you to take me out, true? Sounds familiar?

Yeah, it does, but that’s not even close V. Stop, let him talk, he’s in the zone, his left hand and temple pulsing with dim light. Should I worry?

“Shit is shit Butch. Smart is smart. A family … you can’t go ape shit when you have one. YOU made me see that. So just enlighten me man, what the fuck are you thinking when you go alone out there. You wanna be a hero? Get back to your shellan and tell her you’re not ready-”

Brain freeze and kick in the balls. V knows. And by the way he stopped on tracks, he just realized what he said. It’ kind of funny, to see V say more than he intended to say. Somehow the bastard knows about Marissa. And all his oversized brain can’t and will not figure out it’s more than that. Another funny thing to think about: if V gets like this knowing just that, how will he react to the “I’m confused about some shit I feel near you” part of his disturbed self. Yeah, maybe not so funny thing to think about.

“Shut up V.”

“Oh, I think I’m still making sense, so bare with me.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You don’t want a baby. Yet. So tell her. You need proof your bastradoma is curable. I told you I’ll find the guy.”

“Yeah, why don’t you get back to that.”

“On it. You only came to me tonight, I may be good, but I don’t have magic powers.”

Butch snickers. Yeah, V and magic. Nooo, not even close. Sure.

“ Now I need you to put that smart mouth of yours to work and explain two things. Why a death wish instead of a drink with me after a possibly heated discussion with Marissa. And, wait for it: why ask me tonight about your vampire relative. See, I can’t put these two and two together. I don’t appreciate that, get me?”

Maybe I can tell him. Maybe it will be enough and everything else I can keep buried. A drink sounds good.

“Marissa asked me to stay home tonight.”

V looks unimpressed.

“Stay home forever V! Play nice daddy. No more knives, no more sending pale fuckers to no man’s land. Oh, and you know why? Because, and I quote “Manny does it too”. Manello plays doctor V, I’m the mother fucking Destroyer. I can’t STAY home!”

“Cop…”

“You know this V. You made me what I am. And I can’t stop thinking that maybe the shithole of a father I have did the same. I want to know if he’s alive and ask him this. Does he have a family? A real one? or he just fucks around, forgets the consequences? What if it’s in my blood? To have a messed-up family? To be a shitty father?”

“Butch…”

“Shut it V. You wanted it out. The moment you changed me I felt I belong. The moment when I take those bastards in I feel like I have a choice and I matter. I CAN’T STAY HOME AND FUCK UP! And I’m running low on choices man. If I don’t, I can’t make her happy. If I do, I have to forget about this: about you and me and the shit we do with the Brotherhood. It doesn’t make sense. Call me slow, but it just doesn’t. You can’t fucking stay here in front of me and tell me it’s gonna be ok.”

“Yeah, I can.”

“WHAT!” Butch’s eyes see red. Maybe he’s imagining everything. Not in a quadrillion years can V say it, like a statue of serenity, after the coherent speech he gave.

“Go home.”

Aaand he does it anyway.

“You’re in no shape to be here. Get your head out off your ass and take a look in the mirror. You are not your father. It doesn’t matter who he was or what he did. If I find him alive, you can ask him everything you want. But start thinking about what YOU need.”

The fucker draws his last smoke, throws the bud without taking his eyes away from his. He closes in, ignoring –again- personal space. He smells like tobacco and something else. The light at his temple calms him and Butch hates it. He needs anger at the current shit he’s battling against so he’ll keep the trap closed on all the other. The fact V’s predatory body moves until there’s no place left to move doesn’t help. Yeah V, if you’re so smart, tell me what I have to do about you and me. What I want is to be there for you. On the field. Make lesser go bye-bye, fight a good fight, come home, get healed, feel like a fucking hero.

Shit, I don’t know. I’m beyond rescuing man, just let me be, Butch thinks until the moment he can’t think anymore. V’s presence is suffocating and the cop wishes to hell and back he’ll be able to look at Marissa and tell her the Brother has no connection to him not wanting a child right now.    

“Butch…get your ass home and get things straight _. I_ don’t want you here.”

***

V has to life up to his name. The fucker just decided to poof without him. Rhage materializes near the place they were supposed to meet. He leaves the muttering for later when a faint light catches his eye. Dagger out and ready. And around the corner, not the things he expected to see.

Vishous is all over Butch, looking bigger than he is. He says something and the cop slightly moves his feet, like getting ready to attack. V’s cursed hand is glowing and the brother clenches it tight behind his back, slightly away from Butch. Like he forgot Butch can’t be harmed by it. And Rhage can swear he hears the leather glove give in. These guys really have to make things rollercoaster way or no way between them. So, time for a brother to lighten the mood.

“Oh, you don’t play nice. First you dump my ass V and now you don’t invite my pretty blue peepers to a staring contest. Real nice setup, lights and all.”

Neither of the two react, like some sort of freaky bubble surrounds them and only them. Aaand it’s uncomfortable. Sure the brothers are used to seeing these two close. It’s their clean and fix routine. Sure one might want occasionally to be anywhere else –preferably home, between sweaty sheets with their mate - but this time things are different.

Something in the way Vishous stares at the cop tells Rhage heal is not on his mind. Hurt? Much more likely. Maybe V crossed the bridge to telepathic kicks in the ass. Yup, the way the cop reacts to every slight move in the oversized wall of heat on top of him confirms it. V is pissed. Tough shit. Because Wrath was orders and when the king says jump…well, you know. So he’ll have to brake the little love bubble because if V’s neon sign gets stronger, they’ll be anything but invisible.

“I’m hurt. Doing my best here not too, but my ego is suffering a rejection crisis.”

“Hard to imagine it Hollywood. Why don’t you unwrap a tootsie roll and suck on it.”

Now Rhage is pissed. Sure, ignore me. Yeah, insult me. But fucking look me in the eyes while doing it. V overdid it. One step after another, burying his heals in the pavement like a statement that he’s there, he comes up with something to make sure he’ll get their attention. He draws his two daggers closest to his chest and does a little bartender tricks. The smooth metal whistles in the air, clicks and creates sparks when blades touch. Hard to ignore. And it does the trick.     

 Butch looks toward him for a second and fixates his eyes on the blades. Two more steps and he’ll be behind V. NOW!

“Ignore this mister smart mouth,” Rhage whispers before stabbing the wall, with the two daggers missing by little V’s two ears. The reaction was immediate but hard to anticipate. Butch bared his fangs. At Rhage. Looking deadly. Only then V jumped away from the guy, looking a little puzzled himself. What the fuck. It was a controlled maneuver, of course. They did this before, for fun, him posing as the target on the wall, blades coming inches of his sensible parts. Butch missed those games apparently.

“Rhage, take those and put them away.” Vishous sounds like he’s trying to bewitch a cobra. Low voice, words dragging one after another. So V wasn’t the problem tonight. It was Butch. Isn’t that a turnout? So he does. Walking like in a Mexican standoff, one step of his copied by one of the cop’s in the different direction, Rhage gets the daggers and holsters them.

“They look better ON me than OFF anyway. Daaamn, this must be the first and last time you’ll hear me say these words in this order, so take a note. Hm…” he tries a joke. Butch shakes his head as if he just got to the end of the rewind and finally got it. He looks apologetic. Then the look changes into something new, something Rhage never saw in him, something Mary would know what to call. And then maybe tell V, because the male has a question mark instead of a head right now. The head in question snaps to him. Figures he hears my fucking thoughts.

The male just stares at him, and the dimmed light comes back to life. Rhage can only hope his tan won’t receive a free make-over session.

“V man, the freaky shit your pupil does- it’s considered cheating in my book. So I win.” Say something man, you’re creaping me out. I’ll need conseling after this night and not the pleasat „her on top” kind. Here was me thinking we go out, play detective, go home, let the bigger minds decide what’s up with the new game the lessers play. But noooo, he just happened to walk into Twilight zone. Or Twin Peaks. Man, that show fucked him up.

”V?”   

***

Blue eyes, laughs, Rhage with a child in his massive arms. Rhage is happy, his beast is happy. Like the Hollywood sign in flashing disco lights. The future.

Take control of the situation or this alley is gonna see daylight sooner than predicted by Earth’s rotation. Acknowledge Rhage. The male acts cool, the stiff smile (to the right side of the face) says he’s everything but. My fault. Pressed against the cop, feeling him burn against my body messes my society behavior rules of conduct.

“S’all cool man. Chill.”

Freaking amazing how many times I forget my inner dialogue is just that: inner. Just like all the shit I needed to tell Butch. From the moment I saw him (9.45 min ago) following that group of bleached scum. Instant overdrive. Hard to decide on what to feel first (reason why I’m good with my toys, they don’t feel). Take things one at the time. Stop Butch. Protect. Keep him close.

The impact of my arm (right one) with the cop was to make ME feel more grounded. Yeah, touch him, make sure he’s out of sight. Close in, feel the heat near his neck (very vital artery pumping blood from his heart-Keep it that way). Tell him, not only show him, what you need him to do.

 _“Don’t!”_ (don’t move, don’t think shit, don’t leave my sight). He doesn’t. Relief. Followed by trained killer instincts. Lessers stop somewhere near. Remember to keep tabs on them. One step away from Butch - safe distance. Conversation.

And then some words he threw between them, just to make the cop talk. He did. Fuck, he did. He saw the exact, detailed, high def image of the memory Butch went to in his head. The moment the cop offered him salvation. Offered himself for a hell joy ride into the unknown. For him.

Hand getting twitchy, light –uncontrollable- define the cop’s face. Broken nose, fine line of smartass talking over the years, on his right side. Yeah, he knows what Butch needs. He’s been there, in that dark place where broken is better than cracked. Butch, in all his “better out than in” style, can’t tell me. So I’ll make it easier for him. Stupid speech-check. Anger-check. Bird out of the mouth-check. He freezes. I burn my insides to maybe clean out the stupidity. I wanted to let him tell me about Marissa. Something wrong. Not the end of it. There’s more. Press on him.   

“Marissa asked me to stay home tonight.”

Boiling. Still, maybe the best for him. Keep him safe. At this rate, he’s gonna get himself killed. Look unimpressed. He pushes on -the controlled-self mask I put on works.

And he lets it all out (predictable – still, relief he trusts me). Order of reactions going through my mind as he speaks: pain, pride, possessiveness, disgust (toward myself for feeling possessive), need (to comfort), need (to take). Shit.

He doubts he can be a good father. He needs me to tell him. I do. The stupid six chamber organ inside me revolts at the lie. The truth: I can’t see him stay home. The reality: I can’t see him fight and not die. Moron. The recurrent dream (vision) -refuse to call it vision- comes to mind. I degrade us both by not trusting him to live. So I lie. Inhale, exhale. Yeah, like breathing, like smoking.

Loose the bud, take time to retrace lessers (they are still there), close in on the cop. Reason: because I fucking need to. And I can’t look him in the eyes as I tell him “…get your ass home and get things straight _. I_ don’t want you here.”

Silence. And maybe success. Maybe he’ll go home, stay alive for me tonight.

Snap back to now. Rhage talking. Butch tense, to my right. Can’t see him, but I feel him, I always do. Especially when he practices Jedi stare on the back of my head. Focus on Rhage. He’s more himself now. A big, poster like picture of the fifth wheal on a car. Yeah, I ignored him. The way the cop looked at me after I sent him home left no place for retreat. I needed him to get my point. Rhage there or not. And what does he do? The bastard stands up to me, ready to implode.

I’m sticking to the inner dialogue. I’m here Butch, I won’t move if you hit me. He doesn’t. Instead, he almost jumps Rhage. For playing his stupid dagger game with me. For coming too close. I felt him tense, I felt his hand changing grip on mine from “I’m gonna break it” to “I’ll keep you safe” and his fangs…Why? Hate rhetorical questions. But why THAT reaction.

I need a restart. Wish the dumb ass procedure (always not the answer) of turn off and on again could work on me. I stand corrected. I have no fucking idea what goes on in my – stop, lose the pronoun, rephrase: in the cop’s head. Will have to deal with it later.

Lessers are on the move. Rhage doesn’t feel it yet. He keeps on with talking to make himself more comfortable. The king wants us on no touching policy with the lessers. Fine by me. Relax, for just enough time to see Rhage sniff the air. Yeah, he felt them too.

I only miss a beat. One moment when I think about teasing the male for his late reaction. And one moment is all it takes for my instincts to snap my head the other way in the most fucked up whiplash I never gave myself. Because I can feel Butch before I see him take off. And I feel the two backups the lessers have planted on the building across to the north, the infinitely silenced sound of a sniper settling into position. All my hell breaks loose, reason left behind in the alley, dog on a hunt style recovery mission.

One dimming string of words plays over and over above every other tactics, plans and instincts in me: You’ll die if this happens. YOU WILL DIE if THIS happens TONIGHT.

He can’t hear me. I’m not even sure I was thinking it for him.    


	4. IV

Night 1

Puccini. His head had enough. But he liked it, so the strings and keys and complicated forms of notes drove him – surely but divinely – to insanity.

_Bullocks. Don’t put everything on my back now. You’re bloody strange even without my help, thank you very much._

The wizard never slept and never accepted his role of shadow. Every night and every day, the voice would be there to point out to his failures. He loved someone, the wizard pointed to the “what if’s”. He did a good thing, the wizard points to the defective reasoning. So many lies woven within truths, that sometimes he believes them.

Phury still wanders if someday, happy or not, mated or not, father or not, he’ll just take his reds and stick them into his eyes. Just like that, because the shadow inside his soul expects light to piss on it.

_Let’s give a hanky to the pretty ex celibate. Hold on, no, not quite that. A Primale, pride of the village, I tell ‘ya. You suck at being a Primale. Let’s face it buddy, you and me…best thing you can handle. Take pride in that, why don’t you? I don’t mind. I don’t give a rat’s ass you have produced 0 babied for the race. How quaint. You and your petty sense of honor. Ask yourself Primale, what good did you produced from offering to take your brother’s place. You’re a-_

Enough. Listen to your damn music and let me be. I have work to do. Indeed, he does. The night draws longer, as civilians come to the Safe house for a consult or for more serious businesses. Cuts, bruises, overdoses, pregnancies…he thinks about Bella. And then stops.

_Can’t blame you on that one mate. Knock-out ball looks like with all these bellies. Uhhh, hard to ignore. Knock yourself out, ‘scuse my French.”_

The wraith was hard to ignore tonight too. Usually he could do his job, offer a smile once in a while. Tonight too many things were bothering him. 4 hours since his last smoke and he maybe did developed a kind of allergy to round bellies. Especially to those moving, putting females into so much pain he needed to blink away the crystallization of the idea.

Doctor Manello and Jane had their hands full. And with dawn in 4 hours, Marissa needed to coordinate this to the last detail. The female was precise to the dot. The number of beds was correct – even if he had no idea how she made it in time- blinds were in place to keep the house secure during daylight and she even went as far as to put fresh flowers in every room. A true female of worth. Maybe more, because she was currently exiting the children area of the Safe house and she managed to look rested and not fake the smile she had on talking to Manello. Even the human had bags under his eyes. Hell, he made the mistake to into those rooms himself. It was so loud even the wizard took a break.

_Not really, no. I just knew they’ll make you more uncomfortable than I do. It’s all about strategy._

Strategy. Oh, he had one. Wait for the last five minutes of darkness, make sure everything is ok with the Chosen here and head home to his Cormia. The king won’t like it, but it was his right. He’ll take the chance and dematerialize home. In …3 hours and 40 minutes. 

“Phury.”

“Hey doc. How are things going?”

“I’ll get Vishous forge Jane, Marissa and myself some medals.”

“I appreciate you and all these males and females here do too, but with V…good luck with that.”

Payne’s mate looks away toward Jane, busy with a pretrans on the other side of the room.

“You know, that male is troubled. And I don’t even need to see him face to face to know that. I can see it on my girl’s face and on Jane.”

To Phury, doc Jane looked focused, all biz not play, and a little strange like a see through figure. So… like always.

“I guess we can read those closer to us better.”

“Nah, I can read beyond the doctor face. I have one myself, keeps the patient relaxed. It sucks when shit goes on in your head and you still need to push for finish line. But it’s our job. Another day in the vampire world.”

“Day? Working overtime?” this was not what Phury wanted to hear. To spend the day here was too much to handle.

_Oh please mommy, let me stay and playyyy._

Ignoring the wizard, he took out a blessed red and lit it. Manello needed a break too and his company wasn’t insupportable.

“You adapted well,” he says to the man.

“Not very much changed. I’m still doing what I know best. Well, not much changed if you don’t count I have a prophecy as a brother.”

Dhestroyer. Butch. And a human brother, and a vampire father with a face to associate him with. It was a surprise for all of them. A little more drama and conversation subject over the First Meal.  

“How’s that working out. If you don’t mind me asking.”

“What? No, s’all cool. We go to church together. Sometimes we talk. Mostly we shut up. Then a couple of drinks, nothing fancy. I think he takes it harder than me. But then again, I’m not a head doctor.”

“Well, at least you spend time together.”

_Oh let’s give sappiness a wide berth sir, you have me, who needs your brother close? You’re rather obnoxious when he’s close, and that is my role between us._

Shut it.

“Things not going peachy with your own brother? Nah, don’t answer it. You all have history here. Two hundred years makes for some anthology thick history. Me and Butch …we get along. Easier for me, even with all the vampire revelation, because I didn’t have a family. For him, with his sister and all…”

“You know about his sister?”

Phury was ready to believe the guys were close, but not this close. Seven days knowing the human and Butch tells him something most of the brothers don’t know. Hell, he knows it because Butch trusted him to be discrete about it when he drove the guy to a tattoo artist to get another of those lines on his back. In fact, he could bet Vishous was the only one who knew the entire story. Guess not.

“Shit man, so it’s not common knowledge. I don’t know if this makes me feel good because he told me or freaked because maybe I know too much. And with the trip we’ll make tomorrow night…”

“Trip?”

“Fuck I’m tired and I run my mouth like a wife-I mean…ah, it’s a human saying. I’m talking too much. Yeah, just keep it between us okay man? I don’t mind a death stare competition with Goatee, but that might upset Payne.”

Understatement of the evening. If Butch needed someone, the role would be filled without casting tryouts. By V. It was how things worked with them.

“It’s ok. My brain isn’t in its place either and V isn’t exactly one to go up to and have a gossip session. So, it stays here.”

“Yeah, I have the impression Vishous isn’t exactly in the loop and the guy goes ape shit over everything Butch like over a brother. I mean blood brother or mate or some shit…”  

Oh, Manello got that right. The first thing that pops into Phury’s mind about the connection the cop has with V is the patrol from hell they had some time ago.

_["Let me—"_

_"No!" Butch shoved at the ground, pushing himself up. "Just gimme a minute."_

_Phury stood over the cop, guarding him and keeping an eye on the alley in case more came. "You want to go home? I'll go look for V."_

_"Fuck, no." The cop's hazel eyes lifted. "He's mine. I'm going to find him."]_

Sure, they all wanted to find the brother, but Butch made it a personal reason for living. Like V _was_ his.

_I say that you’re mine too. Of course, I mean it like an ownership statement, not a forever love vow._

The wizard dances over grey plains in his head, the dance of a jester, mimicking kisses on a ragged skeleton. Nah, it wasn’t like that for them. V said it himself.

_[_ _"I fed him." A chorus of inhales floated around the room. As Wrath rose in disbelief, V poured himself another hit of Goose._

_"You did_ _what_ _?" The last word was bellowed._

_"I had him drink some of me."_

_"Vishous…" Wrath stalked around the desk, shitkickers hitting the floor like boulders. The king got face-to-face close. "He's a male. He's_ _human_ _. What the fuck were you thinking?"_

_More vodka. Definitely time for more Goose._

_V swallowed the shot and poured number four. "With my blood in him, I can find him and that's why I had him drink. I saw… that I was supposed to. So I did it, and I would do it again."_

_"Did he take your vein?"_

_"No." A couple of the brothers cleared their throats, like they were urging him to be honest. V cursed and poured some more. "Oh, for God's sake, it's not like that with him. I gave him some in a glass. He didn't know what he was drinking."_ _]_

But then again…Phury snaps back to reality when a phone buzzes. Not his, Manello’s. The guy checks it and frowns. Makes a move to call the sender of the message and then gives up.

“Seems I’ll call it a day-well, a night, in a few. I gotta go tell Jane and Marissa. Take care man.”

Curious.

_Well aren’t you a nebby SOB? Don’t hate the guy he found a way out of here. Seems like for you the party goes on. A gentleman like you wouldn’t leave with all the females here unprotected over the day._

Even with the derogative tone, the wizard was right. He’ll need to camp his ass here for the next…16 hours at best.

***

This has to stop now. I’m going downhill fast and better on the fucking slayers than on my brothers. Butch doesn’t need to stop and check if he’s on the right track. He feels the lesser. Like an invisible Hansel and Gretel path to them, speeding up on every corner. Truth be told, V is right. He’s in no condition to fight, his scrambled eggs of a brain trying to figure out what his body wants. 

When Rhage took out his daggers, all he could think about was “gimme one, V can live without his left hand”. The brother was crushing him, so close he could feel the pumping of blood inside his veins, beneath his skin. And his eyes were saying something. Well, if the SOB wanted to say something else – after the piss on you, get your ass home – he’ll have to learn to say it out loud, because Butch can’t read fucking minds.

Oh, he ready hated V that moment. He could live with the guy explaining him, in his cold logic that his head was not in the game and should call it a night. Even with his bossing around like a dominant motherfucker. But to tell him to back off because HE, the mighty Vishous, wanted to…yeah, not gonna happen. Not with all Butch bottled up inside, partly BECAUSE of V.

Well… not the male’s fault he was becoming a freak. Even if Freakositis was catchable, he never saw Vishous like that. No even when he wanted…Ah man, that fight isn’t near enough.

Running like a demon out of hell can’t stop his thoughts. Or his blood doing Daytona through him. I almost jumped on Rhage. Why? Because I’m an animal and I need an animal shrink, that’s why. Because one moment I need a blade to cut off the hand V has me pinned with, the next I’m a witness to my pumped vamp body doing a macho interpretation of a fucking Twilight scene. Don’t touch him, don’t touch him, don’t touch him is all it goes though my head. Maybe I would’ve said it if not so busy showing my dental record to poor Hollywood.

Shit, keep this up and V’s gonna smirk over your horizontal body, with an I told you so ready to pour salt on the bruised ego. Focus on the blondies, take them down, take a few yourself, let out steam. Your brothers are right behind you, so it’s not like the pale fuckers have the upper hand.

Ram though them like a maniac, create chaos. Right hook, left uppercut, slam the knee into a soft welcoming belly. Oh fuck yeah, I could almost come with the relief of this. Aaand the cockblocker appears. Between protecting my left ear from a punch and giving back retribution, I see his eyes, burning like pits of hell. He’s not angry, he’s worried. And alone. Five lesser, two of us. Fun becomes overrated.

My buddies split up and two of them sneak on V. Nobody can sneak on the guy. Something is wrong. Shit. The hailstorm of punches, leather boots and crowded bodies leave me enough space to see what he signals me. Two more lesser, up, armed. Locked on us. Mary, mother of God, I got him into a trap. 

I forget to put up a fight. Maybe my mind’s idea of a punishment for my stupidity. The lesser don’t use guns. They had a plan and it involved us alive at the end. So I let my hands fall and my eyes lock on him. With all the grace a male his size shouldn’t poses and the precision of a god, he smites one of the fuckers with his dagger.

Undisturbed, focused on one thing: me. I don’t know what hurts more: the punches I receive like a dozen boxers train on me, or his look. Or the fact I’m becoming a lady and I’ll soon need my tampons.

Butch imagines what V is seeing now. He saw it too, some time ago.

_[_ _The slayers had triangled Vishous, and the motherfucking idiot was slowly turning in the circle—but not to kick ass or to watch his own back. He was letting each of them have a go at him … and they had chains._

_In the permaglow of the city, red blood was flowing on black leather as V’s massive body_

_absorbed the licking strikes of the links that flew around him. If he’d wanted to, he could have snagged the ends of those chains, pulled the slayers in, and dominated his attackers—they were nothing but new recruits who still had their own hair and eye colors, street rats who had been inducted an hour and ten minutes ago._

_Christ, given V’s self-control, he could have focused himself and dematerialized out of the ring if he’d wanted to._

_Instead, he was standing with his arms out at the shoulders so there was no barrier between the impacts and his torso._

_Bitch-ass bastard was going to look like a car-crash victim if he kept this up. Or worse_.]

If your freaky brain can hear me, V, don’t worry, they don’t wanna kill me. See, I brought you into a trap. Now go regroup with Rhage, wherever the fuck he is and stay hidden of those snipers.

Vishous just stares between Butch and the lessers, immobile except for his ghostly eyes, like a piece of street decoration. He shouldn’t’ look like that. Like he’ll snap, go crazy if he sees blood on me. Like I look when I think about blood on him. This is insane, V. 

The cop closes his eyes and stops countering the hits altogether, lifting his arms to a sacrificing cross position. These lesser hit like pussies. Wonder what the plan is. Wander if my boy figured it out yet. Eyes go back on V, in time to see the other attacker change his mind about trying to harm the six foot six demigod that notices him retreat.

Vishous looks puzzled for a second, not a common look on him, then stares back right into his soul. Butch almost loses his breath targeted by those eyes. The lessers DO want him dead. Brothers away, V away. HIM dead. He served his own ass on a platter. And the male looking at him knows it.

He barely has the time to change strategy and start fighting. They go down like puppets, running their filthy mouths. “Suck me leach. You’d like that right? Oh I know you love sucking on us.” The forth lesser doubles back and between the one at his feet and the two playing Vivaldi or something at his ribs he can’t see it coming. A perfectly executed stab into the back.

Panic moves in the moment he realizes he can’t feel anything more than a little discomfort and doesn’t understand why. He should be in agony. And then…he sees Vishous. Now THAT is agony. Butch can’t move enough to let him know he’s fine. He doesn’t think it matters. V is beyond reason. The fact that the lesser missed, intentionally or not, but still reached blood, was their damnation.

The brother moves like the sun, hotter and brighter as he closes in. Only one bullet hits him, or at least Butch thinks it hit him and then the sniper takes a break. Permanent Rhage induced break must be. Good to know someone still thinks strategy.

The bullet doesn’t scare, annoy, amuse or stop Vishous. The lessers working on him stop and decide to have a brainstorm meeting. The palest one there is expected to give the answers. The fucker is just too far gone in imagining his fate to reply for a few seconds. Then, he decides V isn’t that dangerous after all and puts too much trust in their numbers.

The glow radiating from V makes Butch relax more than he should. It’s like all of them are witnesses to a god deciding to restore some balance into the world. Show-off, Butch smiles fondly, dizzy and far too calm. The lesser in charge stares at him.

“Would you like to see you buddy here in some pain, dumbass?”

If Butch could be able to respond, he’d say “Give your best shot”, because the way V looks says Death, Pain and Suffering all together in one and all directed at the pale impotent slayers.

They all let him go at the same time and his jelly feet can’t be troubled to keep him upright. It’s fine, watching the show on his knees seems appropriate. The group of four march toward V but only one has time to touch him. It last for only a split of a second. The brother doesn’t see Butch anymore. Focused only on the walking dead. When the pale hand makes contact with his body, it’s like daylight times a thousand.

Butch doesn’t need to cover his eyes. The light and heat soothe him. The lesser, the alley, the buildings around, even the pavement crumbles, cracks and blackens under V’s power. When he can see the male again, Butch and him are the only ones occupying the space. Even bugs must be dead in a ten feet radius. V makes a step, then another and collapses to mimic his position. Fuck!

*

Keep balance. Focus. Hard to even think the word focus. Get to the cop. Ignore the head splitting headache. Stay conscious. Rewind:

-the thought this is a trap obvious the moment I saw/foresaw the shooters. I forget the reasons I want Butch’s ass on a stick. My body goes from first gear to sixth in one switch. My mind decides showing the cop how fucking stupid he is can be done later and concentrates on removing the panic that maybe this is what my vision showed me.

I see him willingly take in hits and it’s the spark. When the lessers leave me alone and concentrate on him, it ignites the fire. I stand my ground. Wait, wait for Rhage to take down the shooters. Almost…almost….one down. The smell of the cop’s blood, proof one of them punctured his skin unleashes Armageddon. And then blank, scorching heat, white and hate.

“V man, it’s ok. Cool down.”

I wonder why he tries to calm me down. Still, good to hear his voice. Realization: I’m still on glow mode.

“Stay there!”

“Vishous...”

Eyes readjusting. “Can your dumb ass listen for a change? Stay the fuck where you are cop!”

A hand at the scruff of my neck. Panic, he can’t touch me after what I did. Can’t touché me because my vision-

“I’m fine. V, look, I’m fine. You can’t hurt me.”

He knows that’s why I want him away from me. Bad time to be a perceptive bastard. It was too close.

Five fingers touch (caress?) my skin. The headache comes down from the mother of all Everests.

‘That’s it. Calm down roomie.”

Without me thinking (I do that far too much around him-dangerously often) my right hand takes hold of his neck. He freezes, I can feel him. Hand moves down, lower, to the small of his back. He doesn’t know what this is. At first, I don’t know either. Need to touch him? Something perverted and mindless? There: blood. His. No, this touch is to remind me he’s an idiot and I’m an idiot when it comes to him. He understands too.

“It’s a scratch.”

Maybe. Could have been worse. I expected it to be. Because of my fricking visions. I can’t do this. React.

“Go home cop. Be a dad, do some desk work or whatever the fuck you can do that will not get you and us killed.”

It hurts to say it. It’s still better for him. Get up, see the extent of the damages I made. My self control is a rabid dog chewing its leash. Reanalyze the depth of shit I’m in. Later.

“Yeah V, it was stupid. You should know, you’ve been there. But get the fuck off my back with the housewife routine, ya’ feel me?”

His smart mouth moves on reflex. His body straightens following mine. Unconsciously, he supports me the way consciously, I support him.

 “Look around you cop?”

“Thanks.”

“It’s not about that! I couldn’t control it.”

“So you’re saying you’re a …how would you put it…reliability, just like me out here. But he can watch each other’s backs V. It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

“Two wrongs don’t make one right cop. I’m reliability _because_ of you. Next time maybe I’ll fry your ass like…”

   “What V? Like what? Don’t stand there and fucking bullshit me about why you want me off the streets. I know your sorry ass, true? What do you see Vishous? In my future.”

There it is. The question I feared. LIE!

“Nothing cop. I can’t see-“

“Stop for a second. I can’t hear you over this pile of GARBAGE. Since when do we do this.”

Oh man, you don’t wanna go there. Not in the state I’m in. “You tell me Butch. Since when do we do this?”

*

Rhage comes into the alley with a bang. As in, he comes in and witnesses the impact of Butch’s fist with V’s jaw. Ooookay, this is getting old.

“I just can’t believe I missed another freaking party to go stiffies hunting. I could see the lights, but I can’t say I’m into the S&M party games. Can we have a piñata instead?”

Again the silence treatment. Vishous touches his jaw and keeps Butch in sight, but he doesn’t look pissed. The cop is emanating enough bad vibe for the both of them.

“V man, you owe me a-“

And then his brothers decide to have a conversation over his. Why bother acknowledge me, it’s not like I saved your heads from a bullet. ( Oh wait, I did. Here you go Hollywood, take a tootsie roll, you deserve it. Oh thank you. Oh don’t thank me, I like you and appreciate you hard work. Gosh, my thoughts exactly). And the self pep talk goes on in his head as the two warriors get their business straight. He hopes, because the way Butch curses makes Rhage put his collar further up a little and try invisible outwear for a while.

“Don’t start fucking with my head, shrink V, and answer me this: Do you see me carrying a baby and storing files? Do you see me at your Toys looking up info? Say it V!”

  Butch pushes V again but the brother is still calm. Calm V is scary V and Rhage collapses into an even smaller ball of drop dead gorgeous on the sidewalk. He calculated this is a safe distance. At least for his skin. His ears got the short end of the stick and were almost bleeding from the drama. Jesus, these guys needed a gun padded room and 2 days for themselves.

“Open your mouth and start talking of I’ll open it for you.” Butch shouts and Vishous is getting tired of the back dance and stops.

Hard decision time: step in and cool things down or make an unscheduled inspection of the Escalade’s paint. Yeah, second sounds good.

He gets up to leave when he hears V’s voice and regrets he has such a good hearing. The ominous words send chills to his back, reminding Rhage of the way the gifted brother served his own future to him in one sentence and maybe saw even more earlier this night.

“I see you dead, cop. By my hand.”

Too late for Rhage to turn his head and see Butch’s reaction. The brother storms past him texting furiously.

“I’ll take the car.” The end.

Party over then. V’s lighting show dies down and the male meets Rhage with the most resigned and tired look he ever witnessed. He wants to ask, decides against it.

“Wrath’s office?”

Startled a little, like V didn’t even saw him until now, he answers and his voice is just as tired.

“Good work with the lessers man. I’ll handle it from here.”

And the only things Rhage thinks about: good thing his brother has that brain of his and thank god all he has to handle tonight is getting home to his Mary. ASAP.


	5. V

Day 1

“Comfy back there man?” Manny asks, the degree of comfortability being the only thing he can think of to break the silence treatment. Butch is a Molotov of fury and something else. He bets the something else is really be best left alone.

“Yeah man, I’m fine. Thanks for doing this.”

“Your command and shit. But don’t get used to it.”

“Nah…”

Well, seems Manello will need an axe to break the ice. Sure, when he received Butch’s text at the Safe House, it really needed no reply. _Meet me outside. Day road trip. Us 2. Bring sunscreen, forget to inform the others.B_

And it’s not like he takes orders very well, but this seemed too important to ignore. So sure, he told Jane and Marissa he had something veeery important to do, leaving the details aside and met the guy. Now …he was trashing every traffic regulation on the way to who-knows-where. Oh, and did I mention that the sun was coming out in  5…4…3…yeah, you get the point.

Normally he could say good thing he’s a doctor, but he doubts he can do anything to unpoof a sun burned vampire. The way he sees it: drive, keep the tainted windows up, drive like a bat from hell and take the guy back home in one piece, preferably rear, not overcooked.

“Seriously man, thanks for doing this-“

“Against doctor’s orders, yeah, it’s fine. But I expect you in combat mode tonight when we’ll drive back into a house of heated angry as shit vamps.”

“I’ll take the heat.”

“I know at least one freakishly mad one that won’t agree with you. And he’s been waiting to give me a nice tan with that hand of his.”

“V will be…it’s gonna be okay.”

Reassuring…NOT. Butch can say whatever he likes, but this wasn’t a planned thing so he doubts everything is covered. Fuck, he can take the bunch being all in his face, he just hopes Payne will understand. Leaving like this, with no word, makes him a little jumpy.

“My sister is…was very important to me. And what I am. You know, I still talk to her every year. This day…it’s all shit and bad memories but not entirely. I start by telling her not to get into that car, over and over…but then I tell her I’m fine now, I have a family and I do a damn good job protecting them. She taught me that.”

Manny drives and keeps his mouth shut. Butch may as well be talking to himself and the weird part is that he feels like he’s intruding. The cop must be in a really dark place to open up like this in front of him. Even if he is, well, his brother. Thing is, he himself tried to make it a no big deal, but the realization didn’t come easy. He was used to being a one man show. And Payne was more than enough for a family to him. But having Butch now, well, it wasn’t that bad. Only that he saw the glass half full. For some reason, the male sitting in the back had other perspective.

“You know man, I’m sorry for…this all situation. I mean shit, you have enough going on-“

“Let me spare you the mushy conversation doc. We’re cool, you and I. Shit just happened to storm in, true?”

“And you deciding to pull this disappearance act? Don’t get me wrong, I’m here ain’t I, but you don’t strike me as being a stupid man. Male. Whatever.”

“I don’t know if brains is a family trait, but yeah, this shit we’re doing…file it under stupid. Things got too tight man. I needed to-“

“Got it. Vampire drama and all, no need to say more.”

“Fuck, if we ever want to make money just by being us, we’ll need to sell the production rights to a reality show.”

“I hear ya. So, mind becoming my GPS and telling me where we go from here? And on that note, want me to look at that cut? I trust you Vishous won’t kill me for driving you, but to bring his car back full of blood…I’m not so sure.”

***

_“I see you dead, cop. By my hand.”_

Memory on replay. Over and over. Rhage took off like a teenager on Red Bull after we got back. His shellan will have a hell of a day. The shutters came down.

I’m alone. Better this way. Fewer chances to screw up even more. Replay. Fuck. Another glass goes flying across the room. The Pit is deserted, deadly serious rap barely a distraction. Could try redecorating. No, better plans.

V starts down the hallway to the main house after the door produces a thunder behind him. In the pitch dark, a small patch of illuminated wall travels with him.

Control yourself, you lamp. Again. Good. Complete darkness. The way everything should be. Don’t count your paces, I know exactly how many there are from here to Wrath’s office. Wish I didn’t. Better to look like an idiot at my feet and calculate where I’m going, corners, left and rights. But nooo, I have to think about tonight instead. See my man’s face every fucking time I blink (do I really have to blink? Yeah.). And that stupid vision. Oh, Butch doesn’t know half of it.

 

_[He’s grey like a tombstone. And he clutches his hands in my shirt so strong I can determine how quickly he’s dying by the way his fists slowly let go. I don’t know why he’s dying and it drives me insane. No blood, no colour, just that damn grey. There’s another me inside myself and he’s screaming and kicking. Because I know all about physics, I can accurately feel cold fusion being demonstrated on my insides. I remain completely still. He’s whispering something. I want to stab my ear to make it bigger and hear what he says. A hand gives up on keeping me close (his right one). I get closer in compensation. Action and reaction. Physics. And while I’m in school, inside my head, he’s at my vein. I don’t pull away, I don’t do brain work anymore. It’s just my cop and his ruthless sharp fangs close to where his breath pushes on my earlobe. The nuclear self inside me decides he’s taking too long and my cursed left hand takes hold of his neck and helps him rip through skin. With me being in heaven, I take him into hell. Because cursed white light takes us both inside it and I wake up, every time, every damn time, thinking I killed him.]_

Yeah, that about covers it. Seven days straight, every time my pal the headache kicks in, I see this. Still don’t know if it’s a vision, a screwed up fantasy or a dream of exhaustion.

Facts: him grey means he’s got some lesser inside. Aaaaannnddd that’s about all the reasoning I can do. Fucktastic. Every other detail makes no sense at all. Not unless I’m back to my pervert fantasies about him, adding some fatalism and some vascular fetish.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Stick to the facts. Think! Based on facts, the only thing I can do is keep him off the streets. If taking in lessers is what brings him this, avoid lessers. No brainer conclusion.

Ergo, trip to Wrath’s office. Explain the night, get feedback on the new lesser handbook for nigh fighting, and BAN BUTCH FROM THE STREETS. Piece of- Oh, oh, the king is pissed. We should start a contest. Play time.

“Sire.”

“I know you know you expect me to shout, so I won’t.”

“I know.”

“Don’t fuck with me V.”

Mad is good. Helps my cause.

“What the fuck happened tonight. First you blow off Rhage leaving early, then you ignore my no touching policy and go head on into them, apparently Butch is becoming a clinical case by now and you’re a god.”

“…”

“Oh spare me the eyebrow and smirk combo, it’s Rhage’s assessment, not mine. So V, I’m asking this again and you better talk brother. What happened tonight.”

“So Rhage came to mommy and complained.”

“I asked him in here. He had no choice.”

“I’d say that again.”

“Coming to me shouldn’t be a punishment. Or a betrayal V. Unlike others, Rhage is a team player.”

“I came right over. Scouts honor.”

“V…spill.” 

Clinical assessment. Go:

“I had a hunch Butch will be edgy. So I went there before Rhage to calm things down. I felt lessers, Butch charged, I went after him and sent Rhage for the two snipers. Yeah, before you ask, I felt them. Slice and dice, some hand job and voila, I’m here, safe and sound.”

“Ok, I understand. I fucking understand you forgot over night the general layout of a debrief. And you told me jack shit. Why is Butch on edge?”

Tell him, keep it true.

“Because of his father, I told you.”

“Shit V, tell me you’re looking for the male.”

“Started early tonight. He asked me too. I waited for him to ask.”

“Why now?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“And nothing?”

“I may be a …-G.O.D you said-, yeah, but I can’t do miracles on demand.”

“Oh no? And what the fuck was the light show V? Rhage said-“

“I don’t give a fuck what Rhage saw or thought he saw. I saved our asses. Got a little excited.”

“That all? You in control?”

Well, isn’t that the question of the day. Better answer him, like now.

“Fit enough to see there’s been a change in tactics with the pale mofos. I knew the quiet game was bullshit.”

“You’re trying to distract me V.”

“Is it working?”

“Yeah, I’d say the fact our enemies received a brain infusion and got to work is a good distraction. So what do we do?”

Beside keeping Butch off the streets? Couldn’t care less, my daggers work no matter what. And I like a smart game. Still, can’t jump on the guy with the order to keep the cop home. Nope, must sound like it’s his idea.

“We need to be more careful, some surveillance, like you said, is in order-“

“And now you’re kissing my ass. You have a plan man?”

“A suggestion.”

“You do those? Hit me.”

“We need new faces on the street. To go unnoticed. Able to keep calm and come back with details.”

“So what you’re really saying is I have to take Butch off rotation.”

Shit. Busted.

“Yeah. I need-no, he needs- time to cool. And I know the street is a good place to vent, but he needs to run his mouth, not brake his knuckles.”

“I already made up my mind about Butch. I’m waiting for him to come and deliver the happy news. But V, since when do you know what he needs?”

 _Since the start_ \- V thought and the memory came to him without appointment.

 

_[V got real close, so close their chests almost touched. With care, he repositioned the cross so it hung down Butch's back. "You good to go, cop?"_

_Butch nodded, finding as comfortable a bite as he could on the leather. He braced himself as V lifted an arm._

_Except when his roommate's palm landed on his bare chest all he felt was a warm weight. Butch frowned. This was it? This was fucking it? Scaring the shit out of Marissa for no good— He looked down, pissed off._

_Oh, wrong hand._

_"I want you to relax for me, my man," V said, slowly moving his palm in a circle, right over Butch's heart. "Just take some deep breaths. The calmer you are, the better it will be for you."_

_Funny choice of words. Exactly what Butch had said to Marissa when he'd—_

_Not wanting to get flustered, he dropped that thought and tried to loosen his shoulders. Got nowhere._

_"Let's just breathe together for a minute, cop. That's it. In and out. Breathe with me. Yeah, good. We got all the time in the world."_

_Butch closed his eyes and concentrated on the soothing sensation rubbing over his chest. The warmth. The rotating movement._

_"There you go, cop. That's nice. Feels good, true? Just chilling…"_

_The circling got slower and slower. And Butch's breathing got deeper and easier. His heart began to pause before beats, the intervals between pumps growing longer and longer. And all the time with V's voice… the lazy words seducing him, getting in his brain, trancing him out._

_"Okay, Butch. Look at me. Show me those peepers of yours."_

_Butch lifted heavy lids and swayed as he stared up into V's face._

_Then he tensed. The pupil of V's right eye was expanding until there was nothing but blackness. No white part. No iris. What the f—_

_"Nah, it's all good, Butch. You don't worry about what you're seeing. You just look inside of me. Come on, now. Look into me, Butch. Feel my hand on your chest. Good… now I want you to fall into me. Let yourself go. Fall… in… to… me…"_

_Butch fixated on the blackness and went back to focusing on the palm moving over his heart. From the corner of his eye, he saw the glowing hand come up, but he was too far gone to care. He was stumbling in the most marvelous, mild way, in the midst of a gentle trip through thin air, falling into Vishous…_

_Plunging into a void…_

_Of darkness…_

_"V?" Butch said. "Don't leave, okay?"]_

Memory. Possessiveness. Stop. Focus again. Not a good moment to remember the first step the cop made into his new life. The moment I, I took him into his new life. ME. I should have a say in his to be or not to be dead situation. Wrath should see this. He WILL see this.

“I know we all know he can be …hardheaded. And we all want him in one whole motherfucking piece of Irish smart mouth. So-“

“I know brother. You should, I don’t know man, talk to him.”

Yeah, that went well.

“V, keep an eye on him. Not that you don’t already.”

“You need to say it, king stuff and shit.”

“Yeah, king stuff. I should keep you all safe and-“

“Spare me the burden of leadership speech; we’re all big boys, ever Rhage. Shit will come into place.”

“It’s just that the Scribe Virgin-“

“Fuck her.”

“Shut it V. She may be your mother-mother, but she’s our mother too and some things…I needed to see her. But every time I try, she refuses me.”

“Maybe she’d redecorating.” – what the fuck is it with me and redecorating tonight?

 “Can’t you try-“

“Oh no you don’t. Apologies boss, let me believe you didn’t thought about going there. Not even in thought. I don’t wanna see that bitch. Trust me it’s for her own good. End of. And if the thought crossed your mind, Payne diplomatically declines too.”

“Fine. Go rest. Send Butch over if he’s back.”

Butch. The reason I’m here. The reason I go back to the Pit. Fuck, seems like reason rhymes with cop nowadays. Now I’m itchy to find him there. Replay. Oh fuck no. I’m not doing it again here.

“ And V? How are YOU man?”

“What?”

“You’ve been here almost for an hour. You spent half of it either dodging my question or spacing out. And your hand…man, let me just say I’m still standing here because kings and freaking out don’t go along. Or else…”

My hand? Flex. The once lighter is squeezed into a gold ball and my bones itch under the skin. Every tendon pulls at them without me ordering. Up and down and long slices of unease. I can’t tell why. I can’t tell them to stop. I hate this “I can’t” shit. Ok, retreat time. I need to think and work. I DON’T need a badass vampire in my grill.

“I’m sending over the cop ASAP. I gotta go work like yesterday on finding my man’s genealogic missing link.”

“Yeah, go do your work. Good thing you got the Safe house covered, we got a lot of civilians spending the day there with…”

Wrath in the background. He says something. I chose not to have distributive attention right now. I need to find Butch.

***

“These meetings of ours…it’s like we’re a true family. If I had one, my heart would be warm and fuzzy.”

“Silence Shadow. It is not pleasure that compels me to call upon you.”

“Business then. News?”

The Scribe Virgin wills a storm of white leafs and white sand and white marble. Silence comes as ordered. She is angry and maybe a little bit scared.

“You overstep your boundaries. YOU ATTACKED MY SON!”

“I did? Mmm no, I distinctly remember I was home…well, my dark place, all night.”

“Your minions are careless, and as you said, they obey you. Tonight, my son released his strength. I felt him and I saw it. He can’t control it, it’s too soon.”

“He can’t control it? That’s valuable information.”

“Hush devil. You shall not dare plot against him.”

“Who said anything about him? My target was our common enemy. Dhestroyer needed some action, we gave him some. My servants had orders not to touch your son.”

“And nevertheless, you awoke the power in him, bringing him a step closer to his fate.”

“You worry too much sister mine. Your son can have his power. Like I said, maybe it will drive him mad. Listen to me, sister dear, I only thought that our plan to keep the Dhestroyer away was…too lax. Why not avoid the fulfillment of their destiny by cutting his life short. If we can do it, surely means problem solved.”

“My son will die before letting him fall. Die…or do what he did today. Either way, shadow, you stand no chance.”

“Hence the dilemma. I see. Then what do we do?”

“My son is relentless. He will discover the fate of Dhander, father of Dhestroyer.”

“HOW!”

In the milky white set, ink clouds swallow the view. The Omega is furious.

“To find what we buried…he’ll get close to his sister. And if they come together…”

“He will give her memory back. And together, shadow, they –“

“They will do what is foretold, sister. What you set up in motion. Stupid, stup-“

“SILENCE.”

The gate opens and the Omega is thrown at it with a god’s force.

“Maybe we are taking the forbidden path. Maybe we can’t change what the Creator planned.”

“Shut up! Shut up! YOU came to me. You were afraid. We DO this. If I have to turn the whole city into slaves, I’ll take down Dhestroyer. And you will owe me sister dear.”

The gate sucks the black smoke with the cold missing heart. The Scribe Virgin folds her robe and sits near the fountain. Today Vishous showed his power. And he is indeed so powerful. Pride overwhelms her fears. Even if she hid the truth from her children, even if she derailed her son’s destiny, she always wanted them happy. The moment she gave birth, a part of her understood flesh and blood and finality. She wanted them close.

By the time the sun will set on a new day, without him knowing, Vishous will be closer to her than he could imagine, and in doing that, he’ll be so much closer to his desire to obliterate her. She knows. Still, she wonders if running and hiding is or ever was an option.

***  

 Call Payne, call her, call her, ask for help. Logical decision. WHY? Reasoning: she was a long time on the Other side. She had access to the Bowls of Fate. Maybe she saw this vamp’s face. Maybe. Hate working with maybe’s, but it’ll have to do.

Trip back to the Pit: well known. The emptiness: surprising. Jane is still at the Safe House, so is Marissa. Butch? Fuck, I needed him to be here. Result of miscalculation: one bottle of Goose later and finger muscle fever from looking into old archives. The find program designed came out blank. Conclusion: I need Payne for a new pair of eyes on the matter. Only have to come up with the balls to ask for help. Yeah, shoot me, asking for help is not my area of expertise. Face palm.

“Vishous?”

Startle. Oh, now this is crazy. Nobody sneaks up on me. Did I call her? Recall: NO. Then why and how is she here. Will the door to open. Memorized code entered. The female walks in gracefully. I wonder if her grace is part of the reason why I can’t see her as a warrior. Maybe.

“Brother mine.”

“You have very fine hearing.”

“Yes and no. I heard you yelling. In my head, I mean.”

Oh, I can do that too now. Consider giving Hollywood a headache later. Now ask her.

“Listen, can you help me with something?”

“Just the reason I’m here for.”

“Come take a look at this.”

She closes in and static fills the room. She feels it too. She smiles and touches my cursed hand. Involuntary step back. She smiles again and leaves me relaxed. Her gift is much more dangerous I think. Right, the photo.

“Manny and Brother Butch’s father.”

“Yes. Ring any bells?”

“Should it?”

“Well-“

“Oh, you think maybe the Bowls…hm, no, his face is not familiar. But…”

“What?”

“It gives me pain. My temples…”

She almost falls from her feet. Left foot forward, right arm ready, 30 degrees approach. I got her.

“I am fine.”

“Call me crazy, but this looks a lot like what humans do when we wipe their memory one too many times.”

She looks at me with knowing eyes. Damn, our bitch of a mother can do that, right? Maybe we don’t know the half of it. One way to find out. Dangerous? Maybe. Will she agree? Definitely.

“Payne, let me see.”

“Inside my head? I am in my head warrior, nothing new there.”

“We’re looking for old. Like decades old.”

I have to get a look. If she saw this face, even if she can’t remember, I’ll see it.

“Brother, do not think I am afraid of you. Here.”

She sits on my chair and takes hold of my hands. I should resist again. I don’t. She places them on both sides of her face and smiles reassuringly. Pause. Warmth. Trust. BANG! Kick start directly into overdrive.

Light, barriers falling, pushing on and on. Blurs and fast images and there and there and all around and spiraling into light. Noises. Voices. Colours. So tiring. Palms over mine. Power again. Payne is helping me. Images. Focus. Find him. Find him. Find-

*    

Payne rushes over the crouched form of her brother. She knows he’s safe, she kept her hands on him to protect him. By the way he convulsed and his pupil worked, he must have had quite a trip inside her head.

She felt the exact moment the seal was broken. She was there, with Vishous, to stare at the male called Dhander. Same eyes, brighter than in the picture. Powerful, angry and self contained, accepting his fate.

“All is well brother. Let us sit here and rest. We both need it.”

“I hurt you?”

Her heart stings at his voice and the fact that he needs to ask, like he’s some kind of freak. She doesn’t respond, just squeezes his cursed hand instead.

“I saw it too. The proud male.”

“I found him.”

She feels his relief only for a heartbeat, then he tenses again.

“If I tell the cop…”

Payne listens and she knows it won’t be easy. The male’s destiny was close tied to the one of the Dhestroyer. Manny will only have to listen and feel sorry for his father, happy he was a healer, like him. The warrior Butch will feel like taking revenge if he is told the whole story.

“You have great powers and you are wise. You’ll find a way to tell him.”

“I’m more and more convinced you took both the brains AND the looks in the family treasure chest. Cursed as it is. ‘Cos I’m a fucking idiot.”

Payne keeps watching V as he retreats to the couch. Sitting down, face in palms, she has the distinct feeling the string of words is only a verbal slip from his internal monologue.

It’s been hours, she realizes, but the shutters are still down. The need to call Manny is stronger. Her back to an unresponsive V, she dials the number. Once. Twice. No answer.

“Vishous…”

The moment he looks her in the eyes is the moment she starts to feel it. And is the same moment Jane appears in the middle of the room, blocking their eye to eye conversation.

“V! The Safe House. We were attacked.”

 Manny, she thinks and fails to see how V grabs Jane’s hand, forcing her into full form.   


	6. VI

Day 1

 

The grave looks the same. Fuck, of course it does. It’s silent and spooky even in daylight because the shitty tinted windows keep Butch in the dark. But not safe, right? Pain drills in his heart, the conscience beats the shit out of him and yeah…everything with an audience. Sure, Manello stepped outside and holds his phone for dear life, but still, he witnesses this whole act of play dumb and crybaby.

Seems he’s blessed only with good days. Another one like this and he’ll prove to medical world ulcer CAN be acquired by vampires too.

Fuck. How did things get so messed up. Seems like the hundred time he asks himself. He’s nearly there, near that fine line between here and poof, bye bye baby, I’m off to sleep in a dirt bed. Last night he did something stupid. Well…a shitload of stupid. First he made V step into a trap. Nice one, applause to the dickhead. Then instead of thank you, nice job, let’s get a drink, he shouted abuse at the brother and took off without letting nobody know where. Oh, and did I mention he kind of kidnapped Manny too? Probably his phone can’t take any more missed calls. Payne must be worried sick. So nice one again O’Neal.     

He had to do it. After what V said…he needed to say hello to death and laugh in its face. He needed to say “You took my sister but I still remember her and she lives here, with me, for as long as I’ll live”. No, death doesn’t scare him. All the choices he made involved a dose of “suck on this death”, from his cop life to his transition and the day to day life he now has. So no, death is just sad for the ones left behind. It’s not scary. Definitely not as scary as V’s fortunetelling the other night. Hell, death he could do. Hopefully later rather than sooner. But the look in V’s ghostly eyes when he declared himself the murderer…was too much, too soon, too pants wetting disturbing.

Butch knows the risks of his life and understands them. Marissa knows them, but doesn’t. Until tonight, he believed V was right there with him, calculating risks and still going for it. But the terror in the male’s eyes was a big middle finger to that supposition. V knows the risks now and so he decided to do what he does best. Minimize them. In doing so, becoming an ally of Marissa’s and her housemale daddy type fantasy. A fate he can’t accept, not after becoming what he is.

His role, his destiny…all the shit that happened to him since minus 9 months into his life let to this: him being the fucking holly vacuum to those damn pale heads. Getting retribution, acting hero, yeah, sure, even being stupid. But you know what? He can bet that when the curtain will fall on him or some other dumb metaphor pussies use to avoid saying death, he’ll get to look his baby sister in the eyes and she’ll be proud. He’ll be proud. It’s too soon for him to be a daddy, play catch, teach someone right and wrong. He;s got evil inside of him and he’s just beginning to redeem himself. Fuck, he’s barely taken a few steps.

Standing here, realization kicks in. Maybe he’ll always be too late in doing things. Tell his Janie not to go with those fuckers, discovering who he is, making things clear between him and the best friend he ever had. Pain seems appropriate when thinking about the little body in that grave, now not even a trace of what it once was. And guilt is what he should feel when thinking about Marissa. But when it comes to Vishous, it’s too much, too crowded and confusing. Add burning hot, familiar like hell and maddening to have the full picture.

What is the full picture with V? Fuck him if he knows. After what happened last week, he considers getting a bigger head to contain all the stuff he imagines. Oh, and a bigger heart, steel reinforced, to keep inside the feelings. Man, he used to laugh at those poor morons in chick flicks, and their complicated life dramas. Now…get him a part, no need for audition.

So he’ll die, according to V. Maybe soon. And he can’t be mad or scared, because dying by the brother’s hand is not a bad way to go. But he doesn’t want it. Knowing what it would to do V…well, let’s just say that if he needed a hard rock reason to stay alive, it’s this. Keep V sane.

After the mini nuclear demonstration the male did last night, his sanity needs more than the guy’s brain to be kept in check. So find a nice quiet place to bury the fucking perverted images his brain insists on providing about V and talk to him, make him see white picket fences are not his thing and Dhestroyer will continue to fight, as long as Vishous has his back. Yeah, that will work. And if by some miracle Marissa will understand too, life will be back to fucking per…well, at least back on track.

Manny digs ditches into the ground and the last thing this place needs are more holes. Nearly sundown, so they might as well start back. Keep the plan on the table and maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to explain a house full of brothers, a pissed V and a lied to Marissa why he felt the need for a day trip. Piece of cake. By the way Manny looks like right now, his phone bolted into his ear – so the man finally caved and answered-  he might say the guy’s return will be even worse than his own.

Hold on. That’s not a “where in the fade are you” conversation the man has. Okay, if surveillance ever taught you anything, now may be a good time to use it. Worried look, avoids eye contact, very little reply from his part. Someone gives him news, not asking questions. Bad news.

Just as Manny walks back to the car, indecisive and haggard, Butch does the simple gesture of turning on his phone. Again, too late.

 ***

Safe House - successful attack, daylight: my fault. Concentrate on letting go of Jane’s hand, you’re hurting her. Safe house – Marissa: Butch. The leather in my glove starts to give in. Estimation on the shit hitting the fan…about 20 seconds.

I KNOW Jane is frightened, I can feel her, but I can see the slow development of the implosion in me reflected in Payne’s eyes. Phone glued to her ear, she’s pale and if she would ever allow me to see a memory of her as a child, she would look like she does now.

Jane is fine. Nothing can touch her (stupid thought: sometimes not even I can). She’s free from my hand, retracting to her see-through form.

“How’s Butch?”

She misses a beat. Maybe she didn’t expect the question. So I skipped a few ones: Who? When? What’s the status? How is Marissa?- I skipped them because my man isn’t home – I still call it home for him– and if he’s not here, he must be there.

“He…I don’t know. He wasn’t there. Marissa is hurt. She needs him to feed her. And we have about 30 other wounded. Vishous-“

“Who else is there. Z? Phury?”

“Phury stayed with us after Manny left and-“

“Mannello…” maybe I said it out loud. I didn’t have to. Payne has her eyes on us. She doesn’t know Manello left the Safe House . He’s the one she calls. He doesn’t answer. Conclusion: he’s with Butch. Where? Fists hit my temples and the blood flow brakes traffic rules. WHERE!?

Phone. Dial. Ring.

“Safe House. Take Fritz and bring everybody here. NOW!...No…Fuck you, I know it’s day outside, that’s why I fucking called YOU! Now do as I said or I swear-…yeah, let me handle Wrath. Call me when you’re back.”

Hang up. Breathe. Realization: daylight closes me in again. The memory tastes like copper.

 

_[_ _Firing up the coordinates on the Escalade, he saw that the SUV was parked behind Screamer's. Which was good. At least Butch wasn't wrapped around a tree—_

_V froze. Slowly, he pushed his hand into the back pocket of his leathers, a horrible feeling coming over him, hot and prickly like a rash. Flipping open the Razr, he accessed his voice mail. First message was a hang-up from Butch's number. As the second message clicked on, the Pit's steel shutters started to come down for the day._

_V frowned. There was only a hissing sound coming from the voice mail. But then a clatter had him yanking the phone away from his ear._

_Now Butch's voice, hard, loud: "_ _Dematerialize. Demateri-alize now_ _."_

_A scared male: "_ _But_ _—_ _but_ _—"_

_"_ _Now! For fuck's sake, get your ass out of here_ _…" Sounds of muffled flapping._

_"_ _Why are you doing this? You're just a human_ _—"_

_"I am so sick of hearing that. Leave!"_

_There was a metallic shifting, a gun being reloaded._

_Butch's voice: "_ _Oh, shit_ _…"_

_Then all hell broke loose. Gunshots, grunts, thuds. V leaped up from his desk so fast he knocked his chair over. Only to realize he was trapped inside by daylight._ _]_

Last time the cop was out of reach he nearly died. Who’s gonna die today? Not helping. Focus. Check on Jane. She paces from corner to corner, translucent and angry. Why? Don’t need to know right now. Payne? Still calling, still no answer from Manello. Thought: another reason to kill – better maim- the human. First be sure where Butch is. For Marissa - for me - ( head slap, delete last thought). I could try to find him with the internal radar shit, but I’m way over the edge. And I have a pretty good idea anyway. Just need to confirm it.

Plan B. Dial, tone, answer.

“Where is he?...No Phury, I mean the Easter bunny. Don’t decide today is a good day to play stupid. Where is Manello?...When did he leave?...Right. Yeah, that was for tonight. No…yeah, I know where it is. I sent Lassiter for you with Fritz…We’ll talk about that later. LATER Phury! True?”

“I better go with them. I’ll see you later in the clinic. Vishous?”

Jane can go back and forth. It’s useless to me.

“Go.”

Something is missing from this conversation. I see it in her eyes. Something unsaid. She resents me for worrying? Useless and selfish. I KNOW she can’t be harmed, so I don’t worry about her. Should I? Is that what a good mate does? Jane disappears.

Payne gets Manello on the line. No need to repeat to her what Phury said. She’s on the phone with the scumbag. He’ll tell her himself. He left this morning, most likely after Butch texted him. I drove the cop over the edge last night and he went right ahead and did something stupid. I should feel anger. Chemicals in me provide panic instead.

Breathe. Lungs draw 6 to 7 liters of air. Release. Now hit speed dial.

“Cop.” I can hear myself. If he hears the same thing, he will know something is wrong. Stupid conclusion: everything is wrong, so he’ll have no clue this is a change.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that. I know you had to.”

…

“No, I won’t kill Manello. Not on purpose.”

Small talk. He expected worse. Can feel his relief and it hurts. Not in a good way.

“Listen cop, you just come back true?”

Words flow. I leave Payne in the Pit. Unconscious reflexes take me to the front door. The wood is hard and slightly warmer. Sun hits it directly, from the west, so it’s nearly night. Nearly…

“Yeah Butch, I’m sure I did everything right with your transition and no, it’s not my fault you can’t dematerialize. Stay inside the car.”

I have to tell him. I feel him wanting to ask. With all the shit we’ve been through in the last 12 hours…he can’t read me. Conscious decision: wait for Marissa to get here – evaluate her state yourself – then tell Butch. Play for time. Mind comes up empty. Fucking...

He corrects his breathing after mine. It feels right. In and out cop, that’s it. Breathe with me. It helps me more than him. I’m sitting, back against the door. Don’t know when I did it.

The security fail at the Safe House was my fault. It needed to be done yesterday. I said i\ll do it. Flashback – Wrath’s office:

 

_“Yeah, go do your work. Good thing you got the Safe house covered, we got a lot of civilians spending the day there with…”_

_Wrath in the background. He says something. I chose not to have distributive attention right now. I need to find Butch._

 

I screwed up. I don’t do screw ups. Not before this I didn’t. Since last week…yeah, too busy with headaches, with Butch nor being there, with…Oh, I’m so fucking stupid. I’ll welcome Wrath’s kick in the ass. If that’s all I’ll get.

Stop. The phone is silent. No, he’s still there, breathing the same amount of air I do. Calm. Soon he’ll hate me. With good reason. Even if she’s fine, even if she’ll be, I fucked up. I feel like I should apologize. Not to Wrath or the others. To him. I don’t do apologizes either, so I shut up.

He tells me where he is. I don’t say I know. He makes fun of Manello, walking lines in the graveyard. His good mood is forced. I understand. The King descends the main stairs like punishment in leathers. The wood feels cooler on the back of my head. Nearly night. Not soon enough.

“You know cop, maybe it is my fault. Maybe if I tried harder with your transition, you could do magic tricks. Save me some gas money.” He laughs. Still forced. It helps anyway. A black mass of royalty stretches a hand to me. I take it. I don’t even think what hand I stretch back. It’s safe. My cursed hand holds Butch. Even over the phone.

The King’s hand then finds my chest and pushes me into the wall behind the door. I don’t react. I make a conscious decision not to. The door opens and light (dusk) comes in with Lassiter. He wants to talk. One finger up and I silence him. Good boy. Next goes the King, a more civilized way to push past him and go straight down to the garage.

Feels like a dream. Not one I would have, but one a normal person would. Like water. With Butch telling me over the phone, with much hope and resolution, his decision about fighting. I don’t argue. No point now. It’s not like I can stop him going crazy after this. I know I couldn’t be stopped. He’ll fight. The lessers or me. One or another, he’s gonna have a fight tonight.

Marissa gets carried inside by Phury. The only noise I hear is my man’s voice over the phone, slightly excited. Maybe he believes I agree with him. That death by fighting is a choice. That we’ll have each other’s backs out there on the streets. That things will go back to our normal. No cop, I can’t erase your destiny and the news about your father. Both reasons for you to want revenge and more nights on the streets.

I can’t take back what happened to Marissa and I can’t take back the way I felt when I touched you.  I can only give you choice. But death will never be my choice for you. You’re right, even if it will kill me, even if you’ll ask me not too come close to you ever again, I’ll have your back.

 The commotion stops, hallways clear and Marissa looks at me from the bed they put her in. I ignore her weak questions and check her vitals. Then her head, the cuts and bruises. Her body, her too pale neck, with no recent marks on it.

“She needs Butch. She refuses transfusion and I’m not even sure the blood we have can help her. She needs Butch NOW.”

I know Jane. And I need you to shut up now, so I can tell my cop that his mate is going to die if he doesn’t come back home now.

“Butch…by now Payne told Mannello about the attack on the Safe House. You will wait for him in the car and then you’ll drive back here.”

***

The chaos he caused…oh, it was beautiful. Right after last night, when he witnessed the Forelesser and his crew get sunburned by the goateed warrior, he took charge of the Lessening Society. Some pale bastards disagreed and needed convincing. He showed them. Oh yeah, he showed them the undeniable fact he was chosen by the Omega himself.

Judd touches his belly, more like a caress. The evil thing inside him gives him power and pleasure. Six months ago he gave a private show to a bunch of albinos that couldn’t get it up. He knew about the Lessening Society. But he needed to see the black shadow powerful enough to keep those fuckers alive, even if heartless. It makes his stomach roll to think about what he had to do to get an audience. And he really swallows back bile thinking about his meeting with the deity.

Now, his plan was on track, him a step closer to the prophesized savior of the vampire race. If he takes down the Dhestroyer, his mother will be avenged and this aberration of nature, the vampire race, will be an endangered species.

The explosions he set up at the Safe House left him bloody, but really fucking happy. Plan B turned out to be a very good plan. Of course, plan B was his plan from the moment he sat naked on Omega’s table and took inside him a part of that dark energy. All he had to do: wait for the others to fail and have his chance. Last night gave him that.

He followed the plague called Dhestroyer to a remote place stinking of vampires. Civilians. One, two, three, bypass the security, break into the nearest mainframe and voila: in matter of hours, 20 or so lessers were planting bombs around that place and then stormed in, cannon meat. He went inside playing the lost tourist. Sure, it was a stupid cover, but nobody had time to question him and the security was crap anyway.

With only one brother on the premises, the clinic stood no chance. And now he was the proud owner of his share of cuts and bruises. The doctor there, a stuck up freaky translucent thing, decided to take him and patched his wounds. Hell, captivity was even better than he expected. Maybe the bunch of oversized action figures didn’t guess he was the brain behind the operation. Leaving him exactly where he needed to be. In the Brotherhood’s compound. Under surveillance, yes, but it’s not like he wants to be somewhere else. From now on, he needs to wait for the brother to come to him. And then, bye bye prophecy. Hello apocalypse.

***

Not enough air. Like a fucking pussy he hides under a blanket as Manny gets in the car. Soon the sun will set. And it’s completely useless, he’s useless, because he can’t dematerialize. He should scream and swear and go Hulk on the inside of the Escalade. Again, useless. Marissa is hurt and he’s miles away, stuck in a car and in his oversized useless body, two hours too far from his female. Manny only looks at him for a second and starts the engine, doing things with the Escalade V would skin him for. 

“V? Don’t hang up man. Can you help her?”

“Jane is-“

“Fuck that. Jane can’t do shit. Use your magic, get Payne to do it. I don’t care WHAT you do, just do it NOW.”

“Payne is … she can’t help now. Marissa needs blood cop.”

My blood. Running in her veins, curing her, making her strong. Marissa hadn’t feed on him since…he can’t remember. His ameba like brain only now realizes. Shit. Late again, story of his life. Late and useless. Head between his knees, Butch grips the phone with all he’s got. Guilt turns into rage and rage into madness, because HE CAN’T BE THERE NOW. Prison. Prison.

“Butch. Breathe. Don’t do anything stupid.”

What can possibly be stupider than what he already did? Step into the light? Start running? Yeah, like that would help.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He loses it. The string of apologies goes to Marissa, for leaving her alone, to Manny for dragging him into all this and to V. Because he NEEDS to do this to V. NEEDS TO.

“Cop…Stay with me. I’m poofing my ass there as soon as the sun goes down. 1 minute man, wait for me-“

“NO! Stay with her.”

“Butch…”

“Don’t you fucking dare move from her side. Can she talk?”

“She’s out now.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Okay, this has to work. Vishous…wake her up.”

Butch can hear V thinking. Knowing the guy, he already guessed what’s coming. Still, he needs to say it out loud. Even if it kills him.

“V… feed her.”

Silence. If V had a hand rolled, he dropped it. He knows what he’s asking. Yeah, it hurts like hell and it’s not fair. Nothing is. But Marissa can’t pay for his stupidity and if someone can do this, it’s V. The male’s blood, thick, strong, exhilarating – don’t go there!- yeah, his blood will keep her alive. In the rear mirror, Manny looks like he just heard him shoot himself. It’s close. It feels like it. The phone burns his palm. Silence.

“V?”

“Come home cop.”

Beep. Beep. Beep. Line disconnected. Brain too.     


	7. VII

Night 2

“Come home cop.” End call. I hear the voices around me -4 voices. And Marissa’s silence. They all want something from me. I’m not used to giving. Truth: I’m not used to saying no to Butch. Weakness.

Before I can make the conscious decision, my good arm goes to wake up the female laying in bed. Her eyes are all I see. Focus. She needs to say yes. Even if I didn’t.

“I need you to stay with me.”

“Butch?”

“Fine. He needs you to stay with me.”

She’s confused. I’m way ahead of her. Except I know all the data and the result is simple. She needs blood. And Butch asked for my blood. In another context, this thought would be –stop, don’t go there.

Payne is too weak after our experiment earlier and can’t heal her. I don’t need to ask. She feels powerless; I can pick up the weird vibe. Must be a twin thing. Or a pumped up magic V thing. Can’t tell. It’s easier to control the power infusion I received. Even if I’m a mess. Go V!

“Listen to me female,” I start to talk without a plan about what to say. My fingers touch a soft spot near her ear. Her vein. The vein my cop has under his lips when he-oh for fuck’s sake, I can’t plan the next thing to say, but I’m able to have this king of thoughts. Relax her. Slow circles on that spot and voice an octave lower. Hypnosis. She NEEDS to say yes.

“I…”

She slowly falls into my will. It’s so easy. For her. Difficulty: I need to take down my glove. I use my teeth. Blue eyes follow me dazed, then react to my motions.

“Nah, it’s fine. Stay with me.”

The glove is off. So are my defenses. I can hear every breath in the room and two rooms each direction. And every thought. Some scream in pain, other curse in frustration. Next to me (2 feet away, to the right) Wrath tries to decide whether to beat me dead or call the boys with restraints. Oh, he even considers calling my bitch mother. Not a good idea big man.

Phury’s mind is more troubled and very much crowded. Strange. And next to him, a Chosen asks why her blood can’t be good enough. Those females and their sense of duty. Crazy.

Jane’s thoughts hit me. And it’s harder to take defensive position inside your head. She knows what I want to do. She imagines the conversation with Butch. She balances the pro and cons. I’m surprised I don’t care which win in her medical mind. I’m even more surprised I never thought about asking her if I can do this, as a mate should.

Wrist to my mouth. A small incision is all I need. Like I did for Butch. The memory makes it better: my blood saved his life. The realization makes it worse: he’s the only one I gave my blood to. Panic. I never panic. A hand grabs my arm in mid air.

“You are NOT doing this.”

Jane voices the similar thoughts in 3 other minds. Oh, 4 now. I lost Marissa. She’s conscious and she knows too. Big terrified eyes get clouded and tears reach my forgotten still hand. Fuck, that’s why I always work alone. Yeah, but this isn’t a home project. I got lost. I blocked them all out and kept his request on repeat. “Feed her.” Repeat over every instinct in me. Repeat over every doubt. Because if the tape stops, I’ll take off running and probably set fire to half the house.

“Vishous?”

“It’s the only way she’ll be safe until he gets here,” and even if I’ll become his punching bag when he does and he’ll tear my head from my shoulders, I will do it.

“NO. I can find…I can-“

“You can what?! Feed her stored blood and pray it does the trick?” It’s bullshit and Jane knows it. The mated side of her took over the medical side. I should be flattered. I’m mad. Not a good time to have this conversation. Get back to Marissa. I’m losing time.

“V, step away from her-“

“How about I give orders tonight. No offense sire, but I’m the one who caused this. And I CAN fix it. Just give me the fucking space.”

This is insane. I can’t reason with them. Walk them through my decision. Butch asked, I do it. End of. Reason is not my best friend in this. Time neither.  

“Here, not stored blood. Your blood. But not like this.”

Jane grabs a glass and holds in from of me. Determination in her eyes. And a little bit of despair. Fuck. Maybe I can do this and not mess EVERYTHING up. Clean cut to the wrist. The glass fills.

Marissa watches in horror. At least she feels something. Clock ticks. I can’t move. Jane does it for me, trying to be all professional. Like we can pretend it’s not my blood in there.

“Drink this Marissa. Come on sweetie.”

More because she needs to, Marissa does. I can almost hear my blood in her. Still no movement capability. Enough brain function to keep myself sane.

“We’ll wait for a while and see if this works.”

Jane hopes. I KNOW it won’t. If Jane could keep her focus, she could see that the damages in Marissa need more than a sip from a glass. Hell, maybe I too hoped it will work. The week beeping from the life support doesn’t change. I wait. Can I wait for a little longer? I hear my man again “Feed her”. No, I can’t wait.

“You know this is the only way.” Because we don’t have time for any more alternative solutions and I will not let anyone else get near Marissa. I did this. I did this to her. Focus.

“I’ll do it. With you out there or in here. And after, we’ll talk. Or fight.” I look at Wrath. He’ll have my head for this. If there’s anything left by the end of the night.

“We’ll be outside if…”

Phury walks out with the Chosen.

“You need to take care of him.” Jane follows my eyes. Phury looks bad.

“I know. Him and other 30 victims.” She’s back on her doctor mode. If it helps her cope, I’m grateful.

“Marissa, trust him.”

Wrath measures his movements. Seeing Marissa struggling to remain awake helps my case. I win. Is it a victory?

Silence. Except for her quiet sobs.

“I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Don’t waste your breath. You don’t have a choice. You once gave me your blood. Consider this repayment.”

She knows the moment I talk about. I can barely remember. I only see him when thinking back. Slow circles again near her ear. One step closer. Ignore the panic in her. Maybe the repulsion. Maybe the guilt.

Puncture. And my blood, red like his, makes her forget I’m even there. Closer to her mouth. Tears and prayers. The Scribe Virgin won’t help you female. I will.

My lips move in Old language rhythms. I say something. I don’t even know what. Just that it’s different from what I said to the cop long ago.

Separate the mind. The moment she touches my wrist I completely let go to the memory.

 

_[Butch looked at the wineglass. A horrible suspicion carried his eyes to his roommate's drinking point again._

_"Jesus… Christ. V, what… what did you do?" He shot to his feet just as the first spasm overtook his stomach. "Oh, God… Vishous."_

_He ran for his toilet to throw up, but he didn't make it that far. As soon as he flew into his room V tackled him from behind, taking him down onto the bed. When he started to gag, Vishous flipped him over onto his back and pushed the heel of his hand up against Butch's chin, keeping his mouth shut._

_"Don't fight it," V said roughly. "Keep it down. You need to keep it down."_

_V's hold eased up and he took his hand away, though he kept an arm around Butch's chest. "That's right… Just breathe through it. You're doing fine."_

_The hum was rising now, turning into something like sex, but not really… No, it definitely wasn't anything erotic, but his body didn't know the difference. He hardened, the erection pushing against his slacks, his body suddenly raging with heat. He arched back, a moan coming out of his mouth._

_"That's right," V said into his ear. "Don't fight it. Let it wash through you."_

_Butch's hips swiveled of their own accord, and he moaned again. He was hot as the center of the sun, his skin hypersensitive, his vision gone… Sweat poured off him as his body gyrated and jerked, and he threw his head back against Vishous's shoulder. Hoarse sounds broke out of his mouth._

_"I'm… going… to die."_

_V's voice was right there with him, seeing him through. "You gotta stay with me, my man. Keep breathing. This isn't going to last long." Just when Butch thought he couldn't handle any more of the inferno, an eighteen-wheeler orgasm overtook him. As the top of his cock blew off, Vishous held him through the convulsions, speaking in the Old Language. And then it was over. A storm passed._

_Panting, weak, Butch shuddered in the aftermath as V eased off the bed and covered him with a blanket._

_"Why…" Butch said like a drunk. "Why, V?"]_

***

 

“Just a little stop man. And we’re off.”

“You must be fucking kidding me.”

The place is somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere near the brotherhood house. But Manny needs to pick up Payne. She dematerialized as close to them as she could.

“Come on Butch, you wouldn’t want Payne’s molecules all over you. We just stop, she gets in-“

“Fine. Just…hurry, okay.”

It’s a miracle the brother still keeps it together. The thought of your mate hurt is scary enough without you being trapped miles away. He can relate to the cop’s caged lion state.

Payne waits for them at the rendev vous point and jumps in while the engine is still running. She does a quick inspection to be sure he’s alright and focuses on Butch.

“She’ll make it. I saw her and V is there.”

Oh, that Manny knows very well. He had to double check and ask himself if he somehow heard wrong earlier when Butch asked Vishous to feed his female. A big no no in the vampire world. Not that in the human one it’s easier. Not for the one who asks, not for the one who needs to agree.

“Is he…did he…”

“I left to meet you as soon as I saw her and Vishous went inside with her.” 

“It’s my fault, you know.”

“No warrior. It’s the fault of our enemies. They attacked our weakest place, sacrificing themselves to harm as many of us.”

“Yeah, but I should have been there. Or Marissa safe, home with me. But nooo, I had to…”

For Butch this was too much. Not a good night to throw at him something like this. His self despise level was barely contained in the huge car.

“You know…she wanted me to stay home. She wants us to start a family, a kid and all.”

“You will have time for that.”

“Nah, I messed things up. I told her No. Not even a discussion, not even an explanation. She deserves better than me.”

“Fate brought you together for a reason.”

“Hard to guess what the reason was when the same fate led me to the Omega and now I have this black …thing inside me. Sometimes I’m even afraid to give her my blood. How can I give her a baby? Oh, and did I mention a case of “failed father” runs in the family?

     Payne catches Manny’s eyes in the rear mirror and he can see her trying to decide something. When she speaks, she holds his eyes and he moves his focus from the road to her, to the mess Butch is, a collapsed into itself mass of leather and pain.

“You will be a great father if you will choose to become one. A father like your father was.”

That got the cop’s attention. He moves so fast he might have given himself a whiplash. Payne smiles, maybe some good news will keep the guy in one piece ‘till they’ll get home. And Manny wants to know. If Vishous got the info, sure, why not.

“Your father’s name was Dhander. Vishous helped me remember him. He was a male of worth, who loved humans and tried his best to help. He really was a doctor. He refused to fight for my mother. Instead he went on the field alone, protecting our kind by taking out lessers and then he was back to the hospital taking care of humans.”

“Yeah well, he did a good job taking care of us.”

“No…he tried. He loved your mothers. They both were kind women.”

And then Payne’s eyes darken and Manny feels this is the end as far as good news go.

“He died.”

“Yes, he died fighting. For you, Dhestroyer, to live. When you were conceived, the Scribe Virgin had a vision. You, birthed and coming into our world as the one to defeat the Omega. The prophesized Dhestroyer. She tried to make your father steal you from your mother and take you to the Other side. But Dhander erased your mother’s memory and they lost track of you. Just to make sure he will never look for you and you will never become part of our world, she handed your father to the Omega. He died fighting, protecting the identity of your mother. He was a good male. And you two should be proud.”

Sure, they could be proud, Manny thought, but Butch decided on furious. He can almost hear the wheels in the male’s head turning, convincing himself he was to blame for their father’s death too.

“Butch man, don’t think that.”

“Mannello, just because you drive V’s car doesn’t mean you have the psychic mojo.”

“Just trying to help. Blaming yourself-“

“I don’t blame myself. I blame that fucking bitch of a goddess and the exhaust smoke that did this to me. I blame them. For everything.”

“You can have a go at them after this is over. After Marissa is safe.”

The words bring the male back to agony instead of anger. Shit, the rollercoaster he must be in. Good thing they see the gates of the house and the only worry Manny has now is to deliver the guy safe and not let him jump out of the moving car. Manny’s eyes can barely follow the way Butch moves. His vampire genes are fired and ready to take the place he craves for.

Butch is out. Engine stops. Now why does this feel like it’s only the beginning of hell?

 

***

 

“Hollywood, trust me, you don’t want to be in my grill right now.”

“I don’t care man. I’m coming in with you. And if I see another drop of blood tonight, I swear I’ll need therapy. Couch and everything. You’re paying.”

Butch. His voice wakes me from my memory. And I feel the pain at the wrist. I can feel the heat too. Biology takes over. Not in the good way. Is there a good way? Muscles and tendons move to separate me from the female. Panic and a need to get out so intense I envision myself ripping my hand away from her. The door opens. Cop.

One look. It starts at her neck. Follows the line to her lips and up my arm. I start burning.

“Take your hand away from her.”

Yeah, that’s what I thought it will happen. One look and he’ll forget he asked me. A bond is a bond is a bond. I’m ready for the consequences.

Rhage moves in closer and Z watches me with black tar eyes. Not to stop Butch. They’re here to protect Marissa. As bonded male, what I did worth punishment. Like I don’t crave for what is coming. My cop stares at me in a way I haven’t yet catalogued. New look. Frightening. He bares his fangs and the two pillars to his right and left corner him. I don’t like it.

“Let him go. Now!” They need to take their hands off of him like yesterday. He has every right to react like this.

“You know what V? Maybe you two have a death wish, Siamese fuckers that you are, but she needs to rest.”

Only now I turn my eyes from Butch. Marissa is asleep, my hand free and bloody. I don’t have time to think back on what I just did. The open wound is the only reminder. Butch must lift weights in his spare time, because he’s out of the brothers’ grip and in my face so fast he gives me a nose bleed. My head hits the wall.

“Seal that wound.”

He looks at my wrist. I look at him. I’m lightheaded. Fuck, I did this for longer than necessary. Lift hand. Ignore the large body pushing me into the solid cold wall and the two masses of nerves behind him. Realization: her mouth was there…NO. I lower my hand and blood rushes back into it. Butch snarls.

“Do it V. Close it.”

I grab his neck and push back. He first opposes me, then follows.

“You two, step away. Call Jane to check on her, but she’ll be fine.”

I don’t stop pushing him towards the door. I could count my paces, but I don’t need to. I count his. Turning away from me, one look back at Marissa, he leads me to the first open door he sees. And almost shatters it behind us.

“I won’t fight back. Just in case you were wondering. But I could, to make it more fun for you.”

Nothing. His eyes are still at my wrist. He’s confused, not angry. And shaking like dashboard Jesus figurine. What did I miss?

“I guaran-fucking-tee punching me will help. Do it.”

Nope. Nada.

“Cop, you need this, true?”

I know he does. He must fucking hate me. I never had to watch my female feed from another. But I have imagination. Lots more than I can sometimes handle. He needs to let it out. Fuck, I can’t believe hours ago I gave him a lecture about using his mind more. And now, we’re back on the punch first, ask questions later routine…yeah, crazy days.

“Butch!”

I try to get hold of his shoulder with my good hand. He shakes me off and grabs my other arm. All muscles in me go into shutdown.

“How was it V?”

Hell. And it’s worse now, because I have no fucking clue what goes on in his head.

“How was it to have her taking your blood? How did you feel? Did you look at her?”

I look at the messy wound. Red blood coagulates into something hard and ugly. Like my head.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. She’ll be fine now. It’s all that matters.”

“Is it? I ain’t feeling it.”

This damn passive side of Butch is disturbing.

“Told you man. Right here. One punch. Two. Whatever it takes to feel better.”

“Were you hard V? Did you whisper to her…like you whispered to me. In the Old Language?”

Physics: every action is met by a reaction. And this road he makes me walk by asking…leads inevitably to me telling him the truth. No other way to get out of this room still friends.

“No. And yes. Different words, but yes.”

“What did you say?”

“I don’t know.”

I really don’t. The words I said to him replayed in my head till the moment he opened the door.

“Liar.”

“I don’t need to lie to you cop.”

I did. In the beginning. Lying by omission is still lying. Not anymore. We can’t go back from what we did this week. He won’t go back.

“So tell me what you said to me.”

I owe him the truth.

“I told you to honor me and keep my blood. Make it yours, let it run to your heart and call back to me so I can follow you to my end or yours, whichever comes first. Something along those lines.”

So sue me, it was my first time, I had a bit of a sappy breakdown. Bullshit: I meant every word. ­In normal circumstances, he’d react. Today…he doesn’t.  

“You know that “it’s not sexual” bullshit you told me? ‘cause it IS bullshit. When you gave your blood I was hard and...hot and… I couldn’t help it. And Vishous…you were right there with me. You wanted me.”

“Yes.”

No need to lie. THE LIE ends here.

“So…with her…”

“No.”

“V, cut the crap. I ain’t dumb. I understand biology. A little. You were hard with me, then at the penthouse before I did…yeah, you know, and now-“

“Now I wasn’t.”

His Boston accent thickens when he’s mad and confused. But he needs to understand I only did what he asked with Marissa. He needs to see it so I can hope he’ll fucking punch me already and then we can go grab something to drink. Probably via perfusion, after the king drills holes into my scalp.

“How come buddy?”

“Does it fucking matter? Cop, I understand biology too. I know it was hard for you to ask me and harder to see me there with her.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What Butch, do what?”

“Give me the “I understand” speech. You have no fucking idea!”

I have some ideas. None useful.

 “Why was it different now? Because I can’t wrap my head around it V. Either biology is what it is and not even you can bypass it, and that I can understand, or…shit V, I don’t know. I…I’m sorry you had to do this. And I’m not sorry. And my head is gonna explode. It hurts all over and I’m angry! I’m a fucktard and I can’t stop talking…FUCK!“

He’s right. I don’t know what he asks or wants or why he can’t decide what reason to use first to punch me. But I know what he has to hear. HAS to hear, not WANTS to hear.

“It was different with you because I thought you’re MINE.”

There. The truth. I expect my medal. And a punch. And my goddamn drink.


	8. VIII

Night 2

_“It was different with you because I thought you’re MINE.”_

The room decides to take a break from earth laws and try zero gravity. When he asked…when he asked, he didn’t see this one coming. Fuck, how to respond to that? V looks at him expecting something. What? Repulsion? They tried this confession thing once before. He remembers.

_["You know… I totally wanted to have sex with you." "I know." Butch's head twisted around, and their eyes met._

_"Past tense now, huh."_

_"Think so. Yeah."]_

And when V said it was past tense, he…he felt like a motherfucking kid, upset that his present, one he didn’t even expect, was taken away from him. Stupid. But the truth is repulsion doesn’t make it to the list of what he feels. Not with V. Never. Oh fuck, if V knew…Maybe he should try some hard cold truth himself. Tell the male in front of him why he feels like all his veins contract and pump dirt instead of blood. And why he can’t stop the maddening trembling.

But he can’t do that, can he? No sir, he needs to unscramble his head first. Go and see Marissa and hit the streets before the night is over. For revenge. What he CANNOT do is tell the brother, his friend, his…well, his voice of reason and reason for going crazy lately, that he…Shit.

Vishous is still waiting. His wrist slowly healing. With way too controlled moves, Butch closes the distance between them.

“Give me your hand.”

And success. It’s not often a brother surprises Vishous. The look on the male’s face is priceless. Still, he raises his arm and, wrist up, shows it to Butch.

“Payne told me about my father.”

“I wanted to tell you. Before shit-“

“Got really crazy. Yeah I know. I appreciate it. Doesn’t change things though. The guy is dead and it’s not like my plan was to retire. So, sorry V, but tonight I’m going out.”

“The fuck you are.”

Keep calm. Keep calm Butch, because one wrong move and you’re gonna blow like an overinflated balloon. And V’s into black, not read with bits of flesh. Focusing on the hand, he traces lines over the coagulated blood. Vishous is too busy playing mother hen to even notice.

“Not up for debate V. Tonight… what they did to Marissa…one more reason. It’s pilling up. Doesn’t help your case man.”

“Take a day off cop. Tomorrow night, I’m there for you. We’ll do this together.”

“It has to be tonight. Or I swear to God I’ll go crazy V.”

“Cop…I’m sorry.”

This is not Vishous. The male should not say sorry. Ever. Not for doing what HE asked, not for the mess Butch has in his head.

“Shut the fuck up already. Not everything is your fault. It’s me okay. I’m the screw up.”

“I’m the one known to giving psychosis.”

“Yeah, you are.”

But not for the reason V believes. This past week, his mental problem was like an AA meeting in an overcrowded room. V, Marissa, his fucking destiny. The hand he still holds tries to get free, like V only now noticed the cop still holding it. No, he needs to do this. Fuck reason, fuck consequences. He’s way past the breaking point, in the calm eye of a hurricane. So he does it. He holds V’s eyes and takes his hand up to his mouth.

One clean swipe with his tongue over the nearly healed, but still messy wound. He can feel Marissa there and it’s wrong. But then that strong, exhilarating taste of pure undiluted Vishous takes over his senses. He needs to let go. Before he won’t want to.

The tattoos start their little magic trick of radiating light and doesn’t this make him the king of all messed up motherfuckers. Releasing the increasingly pulsing hand, he watches V with a look he knows says absolutely nothing. The need is inside him and he didn’t figure out the words or facial expressions to make the male understand. He prays Vishous will ask no questions. He doesn’t. He does something much worse. He comes closer, until there’s no air to oxygenate the cop’s brain.

And that hotter than the sun hand grips his nape. It shouldn’t be close to erotic. It shouldn’t make his blood flow again. It shouldn’t calm him. But it does. And Butch curses himself for thinking things that are not there, because V said they were in the past.

“What are you doing cop?”

Maybe something insanely crazy, pardon the repetition. Butch can think of thousands of reasons why he shouldn’t stay in the room anymore. Not when V looks at him like that and gives him the impression…Fuck, no, he can’t go there. Yeah, and what he wants is jack shit, because he’s on a rocket and the destination was set the moment he came back and saw V with Marissa. He can’t deny what he felt. And V needs to know it. And rationalize it. So there goes nothing.  

“I wanted your heart to stop pumping blood into her. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore V. What does your big brain say about that?”

 

***

 

My brain? If I still have one, it declared himself incapacitated and took a vacation. Wet, warm lips. And my blood in him. Again. I need to react. Need to know. Wet, warm lips and – FUCK. Can’t concentrate. Flashback. Memory.Warm –

_I have nothing to say that wasn’t said (so why call his name?). My body answers before my mind and I kiss him: Butch, dry, warm, salted, needed, puzzled, lax (almost indistinctively firms lips for 0.3 seconds-or my shitty refurbished brain imagined it)._

Great, now I’m a teenager, wet dreams and all. Focus. Ask him why he did it. Make him answer. For the sake of my fucking sanity, answer why cop. Can’t be what I imagine - why do I imagine it? No. Must be because I fed her. You wanted to take every trace of her off of me? Is that it? I don’t want it to be it. Shit cop.

“Butch-„

The door opens and I lose my words. I don’t like it. Wrath takes the rest of the air out of the room. One quick look. Assessment: he’s pissed. No news there. Back to Butch. I lost him, he backs off, releasing my hand. We need to clear this. I need him to make it clear for me. Do I? Can I take the answers he’ll give?  

“So … I’m out.”

“The fuck you are cop. We need to talk about your-“

“Come on Wrath, I need to see my woman. And after that I WILL go out, with your permission or without it.”

“Are you two making plans to fuck with me in your spare time? Do you have any idea the amount of stupid you pack between you two? And I have to deal with?”

„Maybe you and V need to talk. I have to get my ass out and working.”

„I don’t trust you out there.”

Nope. Wrong thing to say my king. Been there, done that. I expect the biting off the head in 5…4… Wrath should really know about the cop’s father.

„I’ll go with him.”

Z steps into the room, dark and cold. With his brother hurt, I wouldn’t send him out tonight either. In fact, it’s all for the best. I don’t wanna tell my cop to lay low again. And with Z being the only one who offers, Wrath will have to say pass and keep them both in.

„You have two hours.”

WHAT! This shit is giving me headaches. The world lost its logic. The King sees my questioning look. Yeah, more like dumb folded.

„We need to know who planned this and what the lessers are doing now. So keep it quiet and stay at a safe distance. We don’t need another round right now. Not until we have the upper hand again.”

„Fine. I’ll go see Marissa, Meet me outside.”

„No bullshit cop. Stay low and come home.”

Look back cop. He doesn’t. He follows Z out and my wrist burns. Soon my ears will follow.

„Vishous...”

There it goes. „I know I messed up.”

“You don’t just fuck up. it’s never that easy with you. So if there’s anything I have to know, you better tell me brother. I don’t know what to do with you V.”

That makes two of us. „I have no excuse. If you want me too, I’ll offer them-„

„No, we don’t need another ritual. But if the pale motherfuckers changed strategy, we need to know. And I need you focused.”

Depends on what. Focus I can do. But I need target practice.

I can’t have Wrath in my face right now. Too much of a weight.

“Talk to the human we have locked up. Make him talk.”

Oh, the mother of all target practices. A gift. Wrath, you shouldn’t have. I smile. Muscles object. 

“Right on.”

“This conversation is not over V.”

“I know.”

Oh don’t I know it. Everybody wants to talk. And the only one I want to hear goes corps spying with Z after blowing my fucking mind. I almost feel sorry for the human waiting for me in …lucky room number 4. Mmm…no, I don’t.

 

***

 

Marissa. Marissa…if only saying her name would make the guilt go away…It doesn’t. The look in V’s eyes so close he could see his own reflection got him nervous. Little snakes crawl under his skin everywhere and in a normal world, a normal night, he would go back and tell the male that he spent the last 7 days dreaming about killing the Bloodletter with his bare hands to protect him. Oh, and kissing him back.

So that V could finally tell him “That’s in the past for me cop” and his sorry ass could get a grip and stop fantasizing about this and get his head back in the game. Marissa game.

Sure he felt guilty for leaving and not being there for her. Add some guilt over the fact that he asked Vishous to practically donate his virgin blood and then some for the way he felt when he saw the actual …donation and you end up with a fuckload of sorry to say, crawling on his knees, yes to everything you say behavior. For the rest of his life.

Yeah, that’s what a male of worth would do. Butch pretty much decided on his own that for him it wasn’t the case. So what does a male like HIM do? Go tell Marissa he’s even more convinced about what he needs to do with his life and he can’t make her watch. He can’t put her in danger anymore.

Easier thought then done. Because the sight of her, pink in her cheeks again, thanks to V’s strong blood, makes him doubt. And when you have guilt packed in your head, doubt makes you vulnerable. And fuck him if he’s gonna mess this up. It may be hard, but it’s for her sake and that’s that.     

“Hey baby.”

“Butch.”

Her arms reach to get him, as if he’s her savior, not the absent motherfucker that kept her unfed and made her bury herself in work. Yeah, she’s an angel. Warm under his touch.

“It’s fine now. I’m here.”

“Where were you? I was worried.”

“I’m a fuc…I mean I don’t deserve you.”

“Butch…”

“And you me. I should keep you safe and strong. And I just keep making you unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy.”

“You feel alone Marissa. I’ve been there, where you are now, taking shift after shift as a cop, just because there was nobody to go to. You deserve someone there for you. A family. And kids. Lots of them. As many as you want, because you are strong and you can have everything you want.”

“Butch…what … is this?”

“I…I don’t know what to do. Tonight I had to ask my …I HAD to ask V to do something he never did before. I can’t keep expecting others to do things because I’m not there. So I have to be on the streets. To be this… sucking machine. It may be a hero complex, but I see it as my job. I failed you. I can’t fail you all.”

She puts her small hand on top of the head he’s resting on her legs.

“I think I always knew you won’t give up. I never should have asked.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You are a male of worth. That is why I love you and I wanted you. Tonight was not your fault.”

“It is.”

“No. To keep you trapped, to make you decide…that was my fault. I thought you needed a family to be … saved. From yourself. But you already have a family. All of us are your new family. Manny, our King, Beth, the brothers and Vishous… It was hard for him you know. His blood saved me and I shall forever be in his debt. But I can’t repay him. He didn’t do it for me.”

“Marissa…”

“He was there, but he wasn’t. And the words he said…”

“He talked to you.” Butch knows that. Vishous told him that. And he can’t help remembering the words V said to him.

“He told me to shed no tear, because all he has he gives to you and the ones you love, as a brother and as a fighter sworn to protect us. That I am the one you see as your heart and he will do everything he can to keep that heart beating.”

It’s too much to wrap his head around. What does this mean? That V still…no, it can’t. He would to the same for any other brother. Would he?

“The Omega killed my father”. There, the other revelation of the evening.

“Butch.”

She stares back at him frightened and Butch wraps her in his arms.

“You want to go after it.”

“Yes. In a less stupider way, but I have to. Not only for my father. For all of us. If the Omega is gone…we’ll have safety.”

“But you will-“

“Die? Maybe. The prophecy doesn’t say. Maybe V can help. It worked so far. What I’m sayin’ baby is that I have to be there.”

“Then go.”

Is she mad? Disappointed? Butch looks at her and her smile confuses him.

“I’ll be fine soon. And we’ll talk about us later. But all those females and their children need to have someone fighting for them out there. I think I need you there fighting for me. But…be safe and come back home in the morning.”

“I will. I will.”

For the first time, he feels at peace. Understood. Supported. Even if he’s far from rational. God damn, accepting the situation and deciding to DO something about it instead of moping around…it feels good. Maybe he should go all the way. Tell her the rest. But at the end of things, he’s still a pussy and she’s the stronger one tonight.

He can’t believe how a 30 minute talk, cards on the table, left things clearer. At least between the two of them. And it makes him feel even more like a shithead. Clearer, more focused shithead, but still.

Story of his life. But not anymore. After the patrol tonight he’ll talk to V and get things straight. He’ll tell him everything and let the male unscramble his brain. The voice of reason. Yeah, V is that. He was that for him from the moment he wanted to leave the brotherhood and V stopped him without stabbing him.    

He’ll set things straight with Marissa, with V and with Wrath. Busy night it seems. But he wants it. Like after a week from hell you can barely walk and talk and then at the end you decide to do something important, really important for your life and you feel like new again, all systems go. Yeah, he feels that. Like tonight his life changes and he’s not alone.

Maybe Janie heard him after all.

 

***

 

“Are you ok?”

Is that really the first question she can think of? Delete. Ignore. Go to room 4. Try not to kill the human scum. It’s not fun if he dies in flames in the first 5 seconds.

“Vishous!”

Ignore doesn’t work. Not when you’re a bonded vampire. Not when you catch yourself wishing to stop being that. Guilt. Not a cozy feeling.

“Yeah Jane. I’m fine. Man on a mission, the King says jump…you know how that goes.”

“I want you to rest.”

“Maybe when I’ll be dead.”

“Don’t joke. You might feel lightheaded after what you…And you need to feed and clear your head. I know it wasn’t easy-“

“Stop. Ok? Look at me. I’m not a pink kind of man. I don’t keep hankies in my back pocket. –nope, just handrolled and the stash is thinner by the hour-. And it was just blood –yeah, keep telling yourself that- . I have more of it – about 4-6 liters more – and you know that. Besides…I already planned a R&R. Perfect destination. Lots of free, PG-18 entertainment.”

She’s confused. I can’t wait to get to room 4. Right foot itchy. Clarify for her. 

“The human. He needs to entertain me with some info. And I’ll entertain him right back.”

“He’s wounded.”

“Pity. I’ll have to take that into consideration when …redecorating him. And I usually like to start from scratch.”

She gasps. Frowns. Decides on something.

“You can’t just go in there and … attack him.”

“Questioning. On King’s orders. And fuck me if walking in there won’t be the easiest thing I did tonight.”

“V, as long as he’s in that room, he’s my patient and a human being and I won’t-“

Close in on her. So cold inside (me). Her too? She can’t warm me. Not here, where she’s a doctor and I’m a fucking warrior.

“I’m gonna go in there and make the bastard talk. SOMEONE needs to talk tonight.”

Because I’m so fucking tired of unsaid things. Tired. Angry. Anxious.

“And we’ll have this conversation later Jane.”

“Will we?”

We’ll have A conversation. Not sure what I’ll say. Not sure what I feel like she needs to hear. Not on my “to do” list right now. But the human is. He needs my full attention. He’ll have it. Over Butch, over Jane, over Marissa and over my own useless psychoanalysis crap.

Rotate 180 and walk away. Light a handrolled. The 5th. The lighter is warm. My hand is in perfect control, ready to play. I adapt. I learn to control my new self on the go. 

I feel her cool even more behind me. She expects too much from me. Bonded is not bound. I’m not a puppy in a leash. Nobody can stop me but my own fucking mind. And tonight my mind is set on pain.

Feeling slightly aroused. Analyze cause: Jane? No. The thought of inducing pain? Appealing but no. The aftermath of donation? No.  Strike three, you’re out sucker.

Oh, but I know the cause don’t I? And isn’t a fucking joy to be this clear after a complete senses blackout? Butch and his god damn wet, warm tongue with my blood on it. Tonight I’ll get my answers. ALL of them.

  

***

 

Z waits. Outside in the yard, by the Escalade. Phury will be fine. Can’t say the same about the first lesser he’ll come across tonight. Or the second. They’ll pay in full for every hit his brother received. One of the reasons he offered his nanny services to Butch. He can relate to that anger. Safe it is not. Productive, hell yeah. They need information. The most efficient way to collect info…with pain.

“Ready.”

“You drive.”

“Thanks for-“

“Forget it cop. I have my reasons.”

“I know.”

The cop should know. Z remembers when the lessers had Bella. He wanted revenge. And got it. Butch feels the same right now. And man, he’s glad Marissa got out ok. Mostly because of V. What that male did…yeah, they all heard about it. V giving his blood…not something to pass unnoticed.

Z remembers the first time he felt V’s blood in someone else. Oh, he remembers.

_[_ _Z focused on Butch for the first time since the male had come into the room ten minutes ago. He was about to answer the human's question when his instincts fired up. Cocking his head, he sniffed a little. Stared at the man._ _What the fuck…_ _?_

_"Cop, where have you been since I saw you last?"_

_"Nowhere."_

_"You smell different."_

_Butch flushed. "New aftershave."_

_"No. No, that's not—"_ _]_

It was a shock. Not because it was Butch, and not because Butch was human at the time, but because with the blood he felt something else. A trace of a very particular scent. One close to what Wrath and Rhage had on after they… yeah, that kind. And that was confusing.

Sure, V giving blood to the cop helped them find him, but V gave Butch something else that day. Trying to understand how things are between this two males gives him headaches, so Z sticks to what he knows best and minds him own fucking business.

He needs to be focused. He can only hope the cop has his head in the game and the night hasn’t made a time bomb out of him.

The sudden position of “dog on a chase” Butch has now clarifies the situation for Z. The cop is in the game. All the way. Let the chase begin.


	9. IX

Day 2

A big grey number 4 ahead. Made it to outside the room. Behind this door I can get some answers. And then get out, face Jane and her accusations. Let something of the human intact for her to cure. She’ll love that. Maybe a peace sign from my part. But now…I can’t think of anything other than pain. Right hand, no twitch. Left hand, no glow. Cock, interested. Can’t think of the why anymore. I’m ready. Six-foot-six, two-hundred-fifty-pound of talk or die motherfucker.

Cold surface under my touch. And open. Party time. Movement in the left corner. A rat being a rat. And the cat is in the room.

“Don’t hurt me.”

“Is it that obvious? Damn, I won’t need those neon signs ordered after all.”

“I’m not-“

“Shut it for now. I’ll do the talking. Keeps the room clean, you know, from all the bullshit you want to let out.”

The faint small of blood reaches me. Control. I like control. My past sex life gave me that. And this is as close as it gets. Thought: shackles, iron and leather. The scum retreats even closer to the corner. Does he read minds? No need. I feel my body set on domination and he sees it clearly. Hard to ignore the vampire sent to question you. Harder to ignore his hard-on. Mhm…no reason why this can’t be fun.

“So bitch. I know you like pale scum. Do you play together all the time? Like today? Do you like to play bomber?”

“I…”

“It sounded like a question, but I don’t want to hear you. We’re not there yet. You’ll speak when I want you to. Nod.”

He nods, crawled into his corner.

“So you play with them. And you have ears, so you hear the talk. And you have balls, so you go out on the field with them. I’d say you know what they are. I’d say you know who planned this. And I’m fairly sure the plan was for you to get here.”

Movement. Human eyes shift from expression of fright to cold. Calculated. Ah, I have a smart one in my hands. Unexpected.

“Was it? The plan?”

“I thought I heard a question mark. I own those.”

He stands with more confidence. Takes a step forward. Insane or really not what we anticipated.

“Then not a question. A statement. Yes, you followed the plan to the letter. I’m here.”

“Glad to see you enjoying yourself. Now, can we try some me time?”

“Sure. Want me to suck you off…oh, hell, I keep forgetting the no question rule. So I’m just gonna offer. Sucking you, now. It’s been a while for me. You know…impotent friends and all that.”

Jolt straight into my south. Not the offer. The confidence. The hate behind it.

“Pass on that. Need your mouth for something else.”

“I can multitask.”

“Not with one mouth you can’t.”

“I can see you’re interested.”

I’m still hard. Not for the reason he assumes. It’s the game. And this night. Warm, cop, wet lips…-Fuck, stop that thought. His mouth can’t get me off, but the thought of him beaten to a pulp…Well…

“I can see you’re not the type. Blowing you…can’t get you enough power. You want to see me bleed.”

Recoil. He is smart. Playing this card will get him nowhere. It’s a game for him too.

“I promise it won’t be just for fun. That…would be sick of me.”

“Oh I don’t think causing pain is sick. And neither do you vampire.”

No, I don’t really. Causing pain and pushing the boundaries. My style, my drug. The thought of doing it with someone who can take it –Butch (no, don’t go there)- exhilarating. Still, letting me know he likes pain is part of the game. To make me doubt my …questioning technique. But he’ll talk. Something more than well rehearsed lines. Pain makes everybody talk. When I want them to.

“I bet you dream about that male. About what he can take from you.”

Butch. Instinctive reaction. Reanalyze. He really said it. He smiles. He knows us. How?

“I saw you with him. You hold back when you’re with him. With that hand of yours. Even if he can take it.”

Last night. He was there, observing the fight. Why? Getting tired of the fragments of info. Two long strides. Hand in his hair (right), hand on his wound (left). Pressing. He screams.

“Do you give him more than that hand of yours?”

“Rules asshole. You keep forgetting them.”

“I think we’re past that. Introductions bore me. Pleasantries too.”

Another squeeze on the raw flesh. Another scream.

“The name is Judd. And you’re playing my game as much as I play yours.”

“Then…Judd (close to his face), I’ll show you mine …if you show me yours.”

“Didn’t you figure it out already? I’m disappointed. I thought they sent in the smart one to get answers, not the muscle two neurons one.”

“I’ll surprise you shithead.”

“And I you…Vishous.”

***

“Cop, stop and talk to me.”

“Nothing to say Z. Where the fuck is Vishous?”

“Cop.”

“Z, go see how Phury is. And Marissa.” Butch would say anything to make the brother get off his back. He needed to find the human. Mother fuckers. The thoughts in his head struggle to find a straight line. The lesser in town were laying low, but Butch used all his stink radar to get to them. And when he found himself some pale mofos, they were on them. And the one he…kind of tortured, told him everything he needed to know. They were being played. All of them, the Brotherhood.  

So he ditched Z and took the car home, hating, for the second time today, he was so impotent and dematerializing was a pure blood thing. Shit, he can’t know what the human has planned. But he knows what to do. The fucker will pay.

“Cop, what did you find?”

Oh great, the king was still here. Another body between him and his revenge. And like the massive guy with the glasses, they were all blind in here. Except for him. And he needed to get to that human and …and what? Kill him? Maim him? No, make him bleed and scream.

“I feel you cop. Anger just broke my sensation radar. What went wrong?”

“I’d say everything.”

“Z, what’s the info?”

“No info. The crazed steroid tank here took his time with a bastard and then hooped into the car and I met him here.”

“I’ll explain later. Where’s the human.”

“With V. Why?”

“V is with him? Where. Stop the fucking staring and tell me.”

Before his yelling got him an answer, the staff, brothers and shellans in the clinic were coming into the hallways, alerted and oh, so fucking unnecessary. Priority chance. All Butch could think was to get to V and get him out of that room. And then lock himself in with the human. No more casualties. Definetly not V. Not him.

Jane appeared from a room and seeing him, her eyes checked the door down the hall. Bingo. Door number 4. His destination. Or the end of it.    

***

“Not impressed so far vampire. I expected the beating. Hoped it will be from the one whose mate I almost blew to pieces. You take care of his fights, now his revenges. Do you take care of his woman, too?”

Red. Blazing heat pours into my hand. Suppress it, don’t let him fuck with your mind. Give a mind fuck instead. Reach into him. Closer, my mouth near his, so he can see my lips don’t move.

_Surprised now? How about this. You keep that trap closed and make me enjoy myself in here, in your perverted little mind._

The human is surprised. But he smiles. He enjoys it.

_I can do that. Get you room to play. As long as you play nice._

 The answer comes clear, no interference. Not many humans can concentrate enough to do it, keeping every other thought and feeling in check.

_Like what you see?_

He only gives me access to some part of his mind. Flow of images. Teenager, a woman, dark alley, vampire. Civilian. A gun, a wall. Blood. Face of a that woman - blank.

“That was my mother. And the fucker, well, literally, the one who fucked her, fed from her and then shot her, was one of yours.”

Air in his breath hits my lips. His eyes fixed on mine. And his mind closed.

“Revenge?”

“Oh, you have to appreciate the balls I have. Finding out about you, getting close…You know, she was a sub. She liked it. I like it too now. The games are rough, but she didn’t have to die. Least of all, not by the hand of an aberration.”

“So you decided to play bitch for the other aberration out there to get to us.”

“Well, they don’t feel and don’t drink blood. And they can’t fuck. Big plus. I do it for them, you know, like entertainment.”

“Can’t afford cable?”

“Oh, on cable they don’t slash the bitch’s throat after the fucking.”

Second surprise tonight. This human is sick. Twisted beyond recognition. The motivation must be huge.

“Reenacting your mother’s death? That’s sick man.”

“Oh…didn’t I mention? When I say bitch, I refer to vampire males. Lesser get them for us sometimes. When you pumped bunch aren’t looking.”

And surprise three. Maybe the old pain seems like a barbarian way to make someone scream, but I want him to scream. NOW! And he does. Enough to wake the entire compound.

“Wrong move what you did today. Wrong move to get yourself caught. Wrong move to meet me.”

More punches, knees, screams and blood and saliva all over my clothes. I can feel myself let go. Primeval, raw and angry. Sex and pain and twisted games in him. In me too.

“Is it good for you?”

“Why are you here fucker?”

“Do you doubt…ah…your animal attraction?”

“Why-are-you-here?”

Fangs bared, hand on fire, the human feels it and screams under the touch.

“You’re the son of the Goddess and you have to live. But I wish I could see you face when…”

Noises from outside. Butch. The human catches them too. He smiles.

“When what? See my face when what?”

“When your reason for living will die under your eyes. If it will be close to what I felt seeing my mother…this is all worth it.”

Freeze. What the fuck.

***

Ignore everyone and walk. Butch can think of only one thing. Get V out, because he can’t be in the same room with that human…something. A few more steps and his determination wavers. Marissa stands in her bed, the door to her room opened. He stops. He looks. She means a lot to him, but he will do this for all of them. It’s his job.

Yeah, he has regrets. Maybe not as many after the talk with her earlier, but still. He wishes for a second to go inside her room and tell her about V. Be honest to the end. But then again, tell her what? That he dreams of the guy? That he wants him? Does he? Fuck him, but yeah, he does. Ever since that kiss…or maybe from way back. Just that…it was never the time to have a proper talk. Neither males good with words, life throwing at them stuff, good and bad.

Marissa will never know. And Butch feels bad about it. He wanted to take this night and the next day to get things straight. With her and with Vishous.

Vishous…

Once inside that room, his chance to set things straight with V will be lost. The male can’t know what he plans. Because if he does, he will try to stop him. And Butch knows that what he needs to do is the only way and it has to work. So he’ll hurt V. With all his strength. And then hope the guy he always relied on will be there to try and bring him back. If someone can do it, V is that someone. The male who wanted him. Once upon a time. Now…he’s not sure.

He looks for the door number 4 again and once back to his shellan. In a silent goodbye. Her eyes open wider and her smile disappears. Instead, a chilling scream.

“Nooo.” Marissa knows him too well. Maybe she can see murder in his eyes. “Not tonight. Please…don’t.”

No time to waste now. They can’t stop him. The human needs to pay. Z, Phury, Wrath and Rhage already start to follow him. Jane hurries past him and tries to calm the wounded female.

Under his foot, the door crumbles. Before seeing the human’s face, he sees V, holding the body, too close and with a puzzled look that not very often he wears. Deep down, under all the anger and the fright of seeing the male so close to something so dangerous he has no idea, Butch knows that he was a fucking pussy. Afraid to admit what he wanted. Corrupted by human society rules and ideas, he failed to acknowledge the obvious. Butch had friends before V. He has friends in the Brotherhood now.

V is not his friend. Vishous is something like the blood inside him. What a fucking waste to remember now the familiarity, the need, the possessiveness, the incredible heat, and regret now, too late, the fact he denied V the right to know. To let the male think for so long he was a freak because of his feelings for him.   

Those diamond eyes follow him, but he moves too fast for the brother to react. He needs to get him as far away from the human as possible.

  And he does. Two swift moves and he grabs V with both hands. He manhandles him to the door, thanks to the element of surprise. The mass of bodies coming towards them freezes.

V hardly puts up a fight. Before Butch throws him out, he lets his anger for a second to say goodbye to V.

“Darkness and light, true?”

Once the door is shut in the male’s face. Butch turns to the human. Who smiles.

“I was waiting for you.”

“You should have said it. Spare me the trip into town. Could have saved the pale mother fucker who spilled the beans.”

“I don’t care about those impotents. Means to a destination. And here you are. We could be brothers.”

“What?!”

“The Omega inside you…surely you feel it call to the part inside me.”

He does. The sickening feeling Butch now understands is caused by this piece of shit human who made a deal with the devil.

“So you know what comes next.”

“Take your time.”

“Oh, it’s too late for that. You don’t deserve any more time.”

“Don’t moan. Your female is alive. And I kept your…friend…brother…whatever that Vishous guy is for you, alive.”

He kept V alive. Kept. So whatever is inside the human, it must be more powerful than the usual black stuff. It doesn’t matter. He’ll do his job as the Dhestroyer. And with this junk in the trash, the Lessening Society will have no leader and maybe the Brotherhool will take them down once and for all.

It’s hard to concentrate with all the commotion outside and even harder when V breaks into the room. But the transfer is on and Butch can feel himself lost, in a dark and very cold oblivion.

***

“NOO!”

He can’t. This is not happening. Control yourself.

“How can he do that?” somebody asks to the left. Rhage.

Don’t question. Stop him. Hand to the cop’s shoulder, break the process. A sick twisted gut feeling that won’t stop. And the human smiles up like a deformed image. Butch collapses. Something inside, my right…no, left side, takes a pause.

“How…do you feel now. Look at him and know he’s already gone.”

No. He can’t be. Make the fucker die faster, wipe the smile off his face.

“You’re alone now …demigod.”

Incoherence. Heat. And a grey cop on the floor, next to blackening corpse. Nightmare.

“Let me pass. Maybe we can-“

“Get the fuck away from him.” A scream, hardly resembling my voice. Look up. Jane stares back, shocked. Do I want her next to Butch? Answer simple: no. Don’t feel the need to apologize.

“Leave us.” An order, comes across as one.

“Vishous, this is not about you. He needs assistance.”

Oh, wrong thing to say. Because he needs ME. And not in a million years will you take him. So much heat. Can’t think straight. They take a step back. A glow to the left. Turn, see a form too hard to distinguish because of the light. The face: twisted in a growl, fangs elongated. Mine. My face. No unlike an animals. Calm. Control.

“I’ll take care of him. If he …if he dies…”

“Bring him back.” A voice. Female. Marissa steps toward me. Frightened. She still keeps going. Her words a plea, not an order. “He needs to live.”

Stupid affirmation. Of course he does. It’s something more. Something she knows. Too confused to ask. I touch something cold. Look. Unconsciously, my cursed hand searched for Butch. The touch both reassuring and painful.

“Step out.”

The voice an echo. Not mine.

“Scribe Virgin…”

The bitch can’t be here. Not now. At least she gets them out. The space is not enough.

“Breathe, my son.”

Too much to handle. The pain all over.

“Don’t …call…me…”

“I help you once with him.”

Memory.

 

_[V whirled around in a crouch. Right behind him, hovering above the ground, was the Scribe Virgin. As always she was pure power, her black robes unruffled by the wind, her face hidden, her voice clear as the night air._

_Vishous opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "Before you o'erstep your bounds and render inquiry, I will tell you, no, I cannot help directly. This is a matter of the sort I must stay out of. However, I will say this. You would be wise to unveil the curse you detest. Handling what is within him will bring you closer to death than ever you have been. And no one could remove it save you." She smiled a little, as if she read his thoughts. "Yes, this moment now is part of the reason you dreamed of him in the beginning. But there is another why of which you may see in time."_

_"Will he live?"_

_"Get to work, warrior," she said in a hard tone. "You shall make more progress toward his salvation if you act rather than offend me."_

_V leaned down to Butch and moved fast, drawing the knife over the cop's belly. As a moan left the man's cracked lips, a gaping hole opened up._

_"Oh, Jesus." There was something black cocooned in the flesh._

_The Scribe Virgin's voice was closer now, as if she were right over his shoulder. "Unsheathe your hand, warrior, and be of speed about it. How quickly that spreads."_

_V shoved his dagger back into his chest holster and ripped his glove off. He reached down, then stopped. "Wait, I can't touch anyone with this."_

_"The infection will offer the human protection. Do it now, warrior, and as you make contact, visualize the white glow of your palm all around you, as if you are skinned by light."_

_Vishous brought his hand forward while imagining himself surrounded by a pure, radiant incandescence. The moment he made contact with the black piece, his body shuddered and bucked. The thing, whatever it was, disintegrated with a hiss and pop, but, oh, shit, he felt ill._

_"Breathe," the Scribe Virgin said. "Just breathe through it."_

_Vishous swayed and caught himself on the ground, his head hanging off his shoulders, his throat starting to pump. "I think I'm going to be—"_

_Yeah, he got sick. And as the retching tackled him again and again, he felt himself get eased off his arms. The Scribe Virgin supported him through the vomiting, and when it was over, he sagged into her. For a moment he even thought she was stroking his hair._

_Then from out of nowhere, his cell phone appeared in his good hand, and her voice was strong in his ear. "Go now, take this human, and trust that the seat of evil is in the soul, not the body. And you must bring back the jar of one of your enemies. Bring it to this place and use your hand upon it. Do this without delay."_

_V nodded. Unsolicited advice from the Scribe Virgin was not the kind you left at the roadside. "And, warrior, keep your shield of light in place around this human. Further, use your hand to heal him. He may yet die unless enough light enters his body and heart."_

_V felt the power of her fade as another shot of nausea hit his gut. While he dealt with the lingering effects of touching that thing, he figured, Jesus, if he felt this bad, he couldn't imagine how Butch was doing.]_

 

 “Help me now.”

“This time, warrior, our efforts are in vain. Let him die. The Dhestroyer inhaled part of the Omega. From now on, the creatures it creates will die by knife and never come back. He met his destiny.”

“This is NOT his destiny. He CAN’T die.”

“You cannot save him.”

“Watch me. Or better yet, get the fuck back to that cozy place of yours and never come back.”

“I am sorry you hurt.”

“GET LOST YOU BITCH.”

Quiet. Pain. So much pain. The cold under his hand gets colder. The skin grey and breath only barely audible.

“You’re too fucking stubborn to die cop. Please…”

***

Wrath opens the door quietly and freezes in the door frame. V is entangled with the cop, naked, his light around them both. And V’s bonding scent finds the space to escape out into the hall.

“Fuck.” He closes the door quickly and glances around to check if somebody reacts.

Rubbing the space over his glasses, the king takes a moment, back to the door. It’s the first time he feels like the future of his race is out of his hands.


	10. X

Night 3

“What’s cookin’ V? Smells good.”

If you can call the smell of burnt flesh and something else, divine and so V as good. For Butch it’s the smell of life. He comes back to the world and he feels every painful step of the way back. He doesn’t know for how long he was out and he takes a moment to wonder why there was no passage of light, no door, no outer body experience. Death felt like nothing. Even the evil he inhaled from that human caused him nothing but a blackout. Nothingness. And then a jumpstart that made him FEEL. Now THAT was pain. Something so much like his birth as a vampire.

 

_["What's going on, cop?"_

_"I…" The vast wave of pain came over him like a shroud of nails, wrapping around his body, cutting into him from every angle possible. He gasped under the onslaught, his vision conking out, then coming back. "Oh, shit. I'm dying . .."_

_Vishous's face appeared in front of his. And the bastard was smiling… a big, fat Cheshire cat grin._

_"This is the change, my friend. Now… now you're turning."_

_"What the f—" He didn't get the word out. Red-hot agony became all he knew and he receded deep within himself, getting lost in the swirling torture. As it intensified even further, he hoped to pass out. No such luck._

_After a hundred and fifty light-years of suffering, the popping started: The bones in his thighs were the first to snap and he howled, but there was no time to dwell on it because his upper arms were next. Then his shoulders. His spine… his lower legs… hands… feet… his skull screamed and his jaw ached. He rolled over… spit out two teeth…_

_Through the hurricane of the change, Marissa was with him, talking to him. He held on to her voice and the image of her in his head, the only thing steady in his world of suffering.]_

   

Only this time, the voice there, in his head, belonged to V. The bastard brought him back. And he was still holding on to him, every inch of his body hot and close. Like naked close. The steady breathing hitting his forehead with even hotter air. And even that small point on his skin hurts. Pain is good, pain is alive.

“That was a first. Human-lesser experiment.”

Vishous is still silent, and if not for the chest moving in tempo with his, Butch would panic.

“I guess it was a stupid thing to do. But I trusted you.”

The separation is violent. V pushes him roughly – remember pain is good, pain is life – and puts some distance between them. The naked body of the brother glows softly and his eyes are squeezed shut.

“V?”

“You could have died.”

“I know. The lesser I tortured for info told me the fucker had the Omega in him. I was prepared for it.”

“I wasn’t!”

Eyes open and a cold diamond stare fixes on him. The pupil then does its strange dilation dance. Black-white-black-white.

“I could have killed you.”

“Doubt a corpse can be killed twice.”

“Fuck you cop! I burned your skin. And I don’t know how much of it will heal.”

So that explains the smell. Partly.  

“Don’t think I ever got a chance in a beauty pageant. Not before, not now. Rhage can be the queen.”

“It’s not a joke. None of this is.”

Butch doesn’t think it is, but humor makes it all better. And V stating the obvious is not V. So the guy must be as freaked as he is.

“I’m just grateful. Scars or no scars. You ok?”

Stupid question. At this point, seeing the guy speak and feeling air in his lungs Butch can say everything is just fine, more than ok, even fucking perfect.

“Your battery depleted?”

“Yeah…just about.”

“You know, your eye does that freaky thing…”

“I know.”

“You havin a vision or something?”

“Something like that.”

“Wanna share? You know, bed time story stuff. I think I’ll be out in a minute. Sleep doesn’t seem the best option after near death, but man, I could use a pillow.”

“I’ll tell someone to come and move you to a room. With a bed.”

“And lose the comfort of this floor? Nah…”

“I should tell them you’re …back.”

“How long was I out?”

“Don’t know.”

“Hard to keep track of the sun when you’re burning like one aye?”

“Yeah.”

“V…”

Butch knows soon they’ll be out of this room. The room where he got his life back. And he doesn’t want Vishous to leave. He wants to look at him and see strength come back to his body. And most of all, he wants to start making things right.

Pale eyes focus on his and the expression in them is a mix of longing and uncertainty.

“I lied to you, you know. The first time I lied to you was right after we came back from the Commodore. I wasn’t fine. I dream about killing your father every night since then. I want him dead because he fucked up your …amazing brain and your life. Because he made you belive that what you have...this power that keeps me alive is a curse. I want him dead by my hands V. I wanted to tell you this. Before.”

The look becomes questioning and drills into the cop’s brain like trying to get to the most important part, of why he’s saying this. Why is he saying this now?

  “I was a coward in the last week. But I thought you don’t deserve more shit on your plater. You seemed ok. With Jane and everything.” 

“I’m not ok cop.”

“Well no shit. You come next in the sharing your feelings moment we have here. But first, just …just let me say this. Something changed that night. When we…kissed.”

Man, this was hard. Not because it was true, but because of how V will react. So maybe the fact they were both weak as kittens will make it better, at least V won’t be able to run off or bash his face after he’ll hear him out.

“I say “we kissed” and not “you kissed me” because I was there. I tried to make it seem like a relief reaction from you…maybe it was…but I…wanted you too. And since then I have these…I’m not sayin’ I wanna go and glue my face to Hollywood or anybody … it’s just you.”

“Cop…”

“I know you don’t feel…oh fuck me, now I’ll sound like a motherfucking teenager, you know, maybe you’re over it…me….and I’m not saying let’s give it another go to see how I feel but-“

And impact. Pain going north into every pain generating sensor in his brain and heat going south into every inch left unburned on his cock. The lips on top of his don’t move and he can barely feel them above the pressure they give to the scorched skin. But he’s there. V kisses him and holds him by the neck with a force so brutal that pain is good, pain is life hymn becomes V is pain, V is life.

When the male separates from him enough to speak, what Butch inhales isn’t oxygen. It’s better.

“You’re covered in my bonding scent cop. I’m a bonded male and I still think of you as MINE. Always had. Always will. What does that tell you?”

Okay, so that explains the second scent in the room. Is it scary? Weird? Insane? For a second, it all makes sense for Butch. A second when he ignores he himself is a bonded male, a declared straight male, a male with a number of one best friend, whose friendship means everything.

”I can’t give you this. I can’t spray my eau de Butch on you. Why V? What are the rules in this?”

“Fuck the rules cop. What do you want?”

That hand pulls him closer again and the scent invades every pore in his body.

“I … know I wanted your blood out of Marissa the moment I entered the room. And I’m insane because I can’t stand…I knew it that moment it was because of you, not her. Because of you giving your blood to someone other than me. It kills me, because Marissa doesn’t deserve this. I messed her life along with mine. That’s why I can’t be a father. She wants a family. With me V-”

“-You’re mine.”

A statement, not a question, not a comand. A calculated statement, like V says his computers are the best out there. HIS. Yeah, Butch figures that’s about right. It sounds so posesive it’s almost ridiculous for a male to accept it, but he can’t fight the feeling V is right. Even if Butch hasn’t claimed V back. Who the fuck knows how bonding really works. One thing is certain, even when his mind is half asleep: part of him, if not all of him, is in V’s hands.

“I am. What now?”

“Now you get some rest. I need some answers.”

The back and forth movement of V’s hand in his hair is hypnotizing and Butch is asleep by the time he gets his answer. Some answers he got. They mingle with images, dreams and the relief of being in pain. V is pain. Pain is life.

***

“It is done.”

“No, my sister, you cannot be the one to tell me this, when it is your fault.”

“Mine? Mind your poisonous tongue. You are the one who almost killed my son, neglecting our Dheal.”

“I tried to kill the Dhestroyer and end our troubles. And I was close.”

“Even closer in ending my son’s life. You will not try this again.”

“Oh, but I will. Your stubborn son won’t be there every time.”

“I will not let you involve humans anymore. Our Father-“

“-our Father says nothing to us. We are forsaken. And I will deal with that curse that is the Dhestroyer. Remember, sister, if I fall, you fall. There can be no other way. Or…maybe you want it to happen. For your children to be-“

“NO. Silence.”

“Too close to the truth?”

“Shadow, I warn you. Even without me, my son found the power. All he needs now is the knowledge. If it is given, things will come to pass and we will be forgotten.”

“Never. No one can touch me.”

“I fear we believed for too long we are invincible.”

“We are, sister dear. All we have to do is kill the Dhestroyer. At any cost.”

The wind that should give the impression of a real world is missing and no birds sing. The Scribe Virgin knows it’s all the consequence of her unnatural plan. She sometimes feels abandoned, like every child away from his father and seeks him out. The reply never comes. So one by one, this forgotten realm, The Other side, plunges into silence and void.

She must be the mother of the race and carry the burden forever. The alternative is too frightening. And they are so young…

 

***

“You’re mine.”

I tell him because he was almost gone and I don’t give a fuck about anything else right now. Not Marissa, not Jane, not the entire Brotherhood. He needs to understand.

“I am. What now.”

He is. Me knowing it is not the same with him saying it in that surrendered voice. Pure joy, like I never felt in my life. I answer something but his soft snore reaches me before I finish. I can’t move from his side. Uncontrollable urge to ….kiss him? No, sink my teeth into his burned flesh and suck him dry. Replace his blood with mine. Mine.

Every emotion a bonded male has and I heard about. Never believed. Never for me. A test trial with Jane. Diluted. This is a thousand... a million times more. I’m a million times more me. Cells in my brain wake up. I open up to the change. It’s not insanity, it’s power. Not a curse. It’s me. Like I was supposed to be and all the twisted games they played stopped me from becoming. Clarity. With him in my arms.

Warmth. I lick his jaw. A crack in the skin where blood flows free. Know he’s too far gone to feel. I’m not. I’m right here and the taste of him … Hard. In an instant. Capillaries and arteries and veins dilate for more. Like carnivore plants. Begging for more of him. My own brand of drug.

Whimper. Can’t believe it’s me. No, it’s him. Growl. Now this is me. The animal so possessed with lust it could fuck this body right close to death again. I’m splintered. Two sharp ends of the same me. Each telling me to take him, each telling me to protect him. And the indecision is not maddening. It’s balance. Perfection.

Close in. Feel more of him, like I never allowed myself to and always punished myself after if I did. Not sick or perverted. Well, maybe a little. After all, I am consciously jerking off next to a sleeping, half carbonized male. The hunger so intense my scared groin feels complete again. And ready. No need to touch. No need for pain this time. Just the feel of him. Naked.

His hair in my cursed hand, his hip in my other. Slow deliberate moves, feel the frenulum stretch more and contract again the foreskin over my cock. Pectoralis major, rectus abdominis, and every other muscle in my abdomen and ass burn with exertion to keep quiet, to keep the right amount of distance. Enough to smell traces of his blood and his hot skin. To smell my brand on him. Back and forth, back and forth, a dry fuck so intense I’ll be probably crying like a fucking chick flick actress at the end. Close now. Breath pattern changes. My mouth pushes in his shoulder, lips sealed. Need to keep them pressed together or I might bite him. Close.

He exhales a satisfied breath rubbing his cheek over the side of my neck. I come instantly. Shuddering like a newborn. Oh thank god. It’s not tears I feel. It’s laughter. The enormity of a situation that before would have made me think I’m a perverted freak. Or worse. Now, only so much satisfaction I could ignite the room. Again. I like perverted. But with him, I would also like –NO! Stop. Don’t go there or you’ll drown the male in sperm after you burned him.

I stop myself too late. I nuzzled him. I fucking nuzzled him. And he motherfucking smiles. Great cop. Make it hard for me, why dontcha.

He lets out small pained sounds that make me want to…No. Leave him. Bonding the guy doesn’t translate into humping the guy. For real. I want him. Badly. Under every scar and twitching muscle I want to crawl into him and stay there until he moves with me.

Move. Leave him.

Bringing him back was the best thing I did. In my entire miserable life. The bitch lied. He was meant to be mine. I feel it. I know it. And she will confirm it. I’m not crazy and not going crazy. I’m alive because he’s alive and he’s mine. Mine. The word doesn’t stop. Hits every wall in me and echoes around thoughts and visions. Visions. Every mother of every vision I had in my life, pounding into me with the clarity of vodka.

A little further away from him, my head collapses onto the floor. Strained muscles protest. Don’t give a fuck. Concentrate on something else than licking his every inch of skin. Like memories.

Memories of playing kill the bird/resurrect the bird with Payne when we were ...two. The clear sound of the shadow’s voice when Phury passed me in the hall. His shadow, the bastard shouting in him, calling himself the Wizard.

The buried, nagging  memory in Z when he felt my bonding scent on the cop that first time. The reason why he said nothing afterwards. My blood in Butch…pure ecstasy. Could that work…could I…Ah, focus.

Wrath on the hall trying to decide if going to the Virgin might help. Yeah…a no to that sire. Oh, and he felt it too. He saw us. A blind king feeling blind to what happens around him…not a pretty sight.

Marissa waking up and wanting to come to Butch. Knowing she can’t. Knowing…no, feeling I’m the one who Butch wants and needs close. That female always knew. Stops…consider if maybe my blood in her influences her mind. Just for a second. Then shakes the thought.

Thinks she made a mistake to try and control him. Near to death experiences have that gift: clarity afterwards. She does love him. Part of him was made for her. But not all of him. All of him belongs to me. And he wants me to have him. Mine.

Hm…Jane. Afraid, like she never was. Why? Oh…the memory of a game and my name on her board. She thinks I was destined for her. She wants to believe, to make this all crazy situation of hers understandable. It isn’t. A stupid Wija game can’t match a human with a 300 years old vampire just like that. It was a glitch. A joke from some unknown trickster. It happens. She’s cursed. I cursed her. I’ll set her free. It’s what I should have done from the beginning. Memory.

 

[ _The trigger was a scent in the room, the scent of a male who wanted sex… with the female, with V's surgeon._

_Mine._

_The word came from out of nowhere and arrived with a matched set of urge-to-kill luggage. He was so outraged his eyes flipped open._

_"There's nothing crazy about it." The guy's voice was deep and demanding, his eyes way too fricking fixated on V's surgeon. "I know what I want. And I want you."]_

Realization. The scent of a male…a scent so similar to Butch’s. That was my first instinct. Coming back from the dead and sensing something like my cop’s blood running through a hardening body. My cop, hard. And in the blur, I thought I heard the cop in that male voice.  For a second. No, too long. For a heartbeat. And I wanted him. Badly. Mine.

But then my drugged mind came with the best possible explanation, like forgetting it ever conjured Butch in that moment of possessiveness. It couldn’t be, I couldn’t go back to the hell it was every day with seeing Butch pumping blood for Marissa.

 My mind choose to push it aside. Erase. Forget. And my eyes followed. The female doctor. She must be it. Mine to this day. Even if she was killed. Such an…abomination for a human being. To bring her back to this lingering state just to be near me. So unfair for her. She thinks it too. Like now…when she opens door after door to check on her patients. Except from the one behind she could find us.

Even now, every time the cop is near, she feels like an intruder and goes back to the first time she saw us.

_["How long have you been lovers?"_

_"We're not."_

_"You sure about that?"]_

I’m still sure. – Mine-  My mind screams again and my hand grabs his hair to prove it. No. Unclench, one finger at a time. Let him sleep. Mine yes, but not my lover. Want to say “yet”. Desperately. But if I go look for answers…I may end up like the curious cat.

This is enough. Should be enough. Him accepting me. Wanting me. Is it? Enough? Oh…sweet fuck. Does it matter?

Command the feet to move. Check on him every one breath while I’m getting dressed. I was right. The whole body to body routine cleaned him faster. Does it worth the cost of him looking like an overcooked eggplant? Yeah. He’ll heal. I’ll heal him. And if not…I’ll fucking have him anyhow. Move. Stop in the door, hand on the handle. Check on him again. No force in the world could get me out of this room, away from him. Except for myself. I need to go. And if I don’t come back?

 

***

 

“My brother is awake. And…happy. So Marissa, please relax now. Butch must be fine.”

“Oh Payne, thank you. I am so sorry you had to do this.”

“Heal you? I will do everything in my powers for you all. I am only sorry I…”

“You couldn’t do it earlier…so that Vishous didn’t have to?”

“Yes. But I am sure he doesn’t regret it, if that is what you are afraid of.”

“No, it’s not that. I feel like … I forced him. I think he still…oh, this is tiredness speaking. Please forgive me. Go see your brother if you like. I will try to convince Jane to let me see Butch.”

Payne moves quickly towards the door and the power she felt surging earlier.

“Brother mine.”

The impact only assures her he has his strengths back. In the back of the hall, they have maybe a few minutes of intimacy.

“You are fine.”

“More than fine. Butch …not so much.”

“I’ll heal him.”

“You have to rest.”

“Oh, but surely you brought this. This power. I felt it a little while ago. Like another part of me is awake now. It was something you did. Because I feel it in you too.”

“Our…mother needs to give me some answers after this day.”

“It is not with light heart, but ask for my help and you will have it. I will come with you to the other side.”

She puts her palm on his face and he rests there for a moment. She sees he already decided to confront their mother alone and she will not let him.

“Maybe…”

“I will be there with you. She wronged us both. Us all.”

“I’ll try to open the Other side. First I need to clear some things here.”

“Call me and we’ll go together.”

“Thank you…sister mine. For everything.”

In his pale eyes, a perfect replica of hers, she sees the rest of that thank you. Thank you for not judging me, thank you for helping me find him and thank you for helping me maybe, when the time comes, to kill the one who birthed us. And she will. No doubt, if it will come to that.

 

***  

 

The closer she is to me, the more I feel the power we share. I need those answers. With Payne there, maybe the bitch who calls us “my children” will give them. Answers. Get them. Could go better if I can get the image of him burned to a crisp out of my head and the need to go back to him out of my body.

 He’ll scream in pain when they’ll try to move him and if I stay, I may kill whoever causes him pain. Mine. To keep alive and … How does this work? I’ll huff and puff every time sometimes gets near him? No. Because, at the end of the day, this need filling me was there almost since the beginning with him. And I lived with it. It almost drove me insane. But I lived with it. All he needs to do is stay alive and close to me. We’ll figure it out.

Ah.

Pain. In every muscle and bone. Two stops and then hopefully I’ll be back in time to see him awake. Jane and the other side. Talk to my still mate and then pay my bitch mother a dinner visit. Forget the flowers.

“Vishous!”

Oh. Yeah, there are others here. Still …here. Reevaluate: how long were we in there? Shutter still down, so day outside. What day? Wrath is a huge tell tale: wears the same clothes and the same frown. No…deeper frown. For a blind guy, he does a hell of a job staring me down. So, less than 12 hours.

No clear way out. Trapped. And in no fucking condition to have tea conversations. Still, need to.

“The cop needs … -me- attention. He’s back, but …get him into a bed and …”

“I’ll take care of him.”

Jane.

“No! Payne went in. We need to talk.”

“I’ll be in here.”  

And she’s gone, right through the door of a room she maybe knows is free. She knows. Somehow, she knows.

“Yeah V, she knows. The others left. WE… need to talk.”

 “And you know how?” Not a good idea to play stupid, but also too much of a trouble to start explaining I can read everyone’s minds in a two miles radius. Or more?

“New room air freshener. V scented. I checked on you earlier. Nobody else knows. But you might want to take a shower.”

“Doubt it’ll help.” My skin betrays me. Do I care? Dilemma.

“What did you do V?”

“Pretty clear isn’t it. I saved him.”

“And bonded him.”

“Yeah, that too.”

“That too? THAT TOO! What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I didn’t even know-”

“It was known to happen.”

“That is your excuse?”

Anger. “I don’t need a fucking excuse!” He’s MINE, no explanation, NO. FUCKING. EXCUSE.

“You’ll need one for her.”

For Jane. My shellan. Yeah…more like a clarification. Still, painful.

“What I’ll tell her has nothing to do with Butch.”

More pain. Around my neck. Pressure and the feel of a concrete wall stopping my fall.

“Enlighten me Vishous. What kind of ice cold mother fucker are you that you can go in there and lie to your mate about why you’re a walking potpourri and your best friend wears you like cologne?”

Smile. Unintentional smile. Keep it inside.

“I won’t lie.”

The pride, the need, the pain of having claimed my cop. Keep it inside. Stay focused. It’s none of their business.

“Let me breathe.”

He does. The king should know about some things. Strategic move. Better to have him on my side. And distract him from my…personal stuff.

“The Scribe Virgin lied to us. I only know that the lesser have orders to keep me alive but kill Butch. And tonight she said I should let him die. Something is not fucking right. So first I’ll go and …talk to Jane. If shit is as bad as I think, or worse, Payne and I may not be back from the other side. Because one thing is fucking set in stone. I’m going out there and not leaving without an explanation.”

 He’s considering this. Maybe thinks I’m crazy. Am I? No, I’m more focused than ever.

“The Scribe Virgin...”

“She handed Butch’s dad, your own blood, to the Omega.”

“What?! You ARE insane, my brother.”

“I give you my word sire. I bullshit you not. Listen, something really messed up is going on. And I need you to keep him…them all safe. Be the king you are. Because maybe…the Scribe Virgin will die tonight. Her…or us.”

“Vishous…”

Panic on his features. It’s true. He’ll be a king without a god to be guided by if tonight shit will hit the fan. Hope it won’t. But answers…real answers, never come without a price.

A price…Jane. I should talk to Jane now.

“She won’t answer. I tried V. She doesn’t answer.”

“She’ll answer to me. Or I’ll go uninvited. It was my home…after all.”

“Come to me when you hear something. I need to tell the others…something. Shit, I don’t even…”

“Wrath…you can do this. Keep them all safe.”

“My brother…you got this wrong…and I’ll kill you myself.”

“I get this wrong and I’ll put an X on my neck for you to hit.”

“Go. And keep me informed.”

And he’s gone. Maybe back to that huge office, to look like Atlas burdened by the world. He won’t have to. I’ll inform him…but only after the deed is done. I can’t have them all jump to risk their necks for us. Two spoiled children maybe the bitch will forgive. But if the entire Brotherhood corners her…I’m not sure she’ll hesitate to … Yeah…just me and Payne. Even that seems like a crowd.

Jane waits by the bed. The association doesn’t give me a hard-on anymore. Maybe because I’m sated, maybe because I substituted her with my cop. Either way…it’s unfair for her.

“You smell like my favorite perfume. You’ve been thinking about me?”

“No.”

Why lie. Don’t feel the need to lie. It would mean I reject him. And THAT I’ll never do.

“Thought so. How is he?”

“Alive.”

“Does he know?”

“Yes.”

“I know I should be throwing a fit or something but…it’s more like I feel this crazy need to tell you I told you so. Remember V…when I first saw you two…I did.”

“Yeah.”

“Crazy thing is…someone told me so too. Told me you were-“

“A Wija board showed you, Jane.”

“I never told you that.”

“I know.”

“You don’t believe in that. I didn’t either. But then, vampires sounded like fantasy and me being a …ghost…that’s …”

“Not normal.”

“You think I’m not normal?”

“You think that.”

“Yes. I do sometimes. I like the power and the way it helps me …help you. But for a doctor…for a human…it is NOT normal.”

“Do you regret it? I never asked if you want to come back. Like this.”

“Do YOU regret it? Bringing me back?”

Do I. No. I do love her. And want her. But what we have is like how she is. There from time to time, solid when we’re concentrating. Not a permanent state of just being. It’s induced and lacks clarity.

“I don’t regret it. I do regret that the outcome of this hurts you.”

“You being with him?”

“I’m not…with him. That’s not what I’m talking about. The Scribe Virgin did some … fucked up shit. I need to clear things up. She might not like the way I’ll ask the questions. She might think she can hurt me by …”

“Taking me.”

“Yes. It’s possible.”

“You know…I dream of my sister from time to time. She always says she waits for me. Maybe it’s what I should have done.”

What to say. For a moment it hurts. Is it doubt? Do I doubt myself? A scream in the other room brings back my clarity. No. She’s not mine. He is. The male waking up in pain. I want to go to him. I even find myself half turned towards the door before I can concentrate on her again.

“We’re over.”

Her words. Not mine. But my thoughts too. Is it that easy? No, it doesn’t feel easy, but it’s the only reasonable conclusion. I’m glad she’s so strong as to admit it. I’m glad I’m strong enough to permit it.

“You’re thinking I’m strong. I’m not. I want to curse you and hit you V. And cry. Did you know I can’t cry since I’m like this? But that wouldn’t help. It’s out of my hands. Like my life, like the way I can’t cure you.”

“You-“

“No. Listen. I sent Butch to take care of you when it was my duty to do it. But I knew I couldn’t do it. Not what you needed. It was stupid of me and selfish to not want to be there when you broke. But I did it. I am sorry for that.”

“Jane…”

“Still, it doesn’t change the fact that it was the best thing for you. And not the fact that your hand reaches for the door right now and your muscles tense every time you hear him. Do you realize that?”

I don’t. I rearrange them.

“Go get your answers. Consider me warned.”

“I lo-“

“Don’t say that.  Not anymore. You’ll feel like you cheated on him if you do. I don’t want you to regret anything we had. Just go and come back safe. Not for me. Come back safe and if I’ll still be here when you do…it will only be to say goodbye. I’ll move on.”

The screams don’t stop. And Jane accepting this –maybe too easy – adds to the pack of feelings. Fuck I’m not good at therapy sessions.

_“Vishous! V!!”_

Growl. I do it again. Hearing him calling drives me insane. Will it be easy to be near him and not claim him? I need those answers now. To know what he is to me, what Jane is to me. What I am. 

“I need to go. Like now.”

“Go. I’ll help with Butch.”

Focus, focus. Jane lets the door closed to muffle the sounds and steps outside through the wall. Over the screams – not muffled enough - and the need to go to him, the Other Side opens like the eye of a hurricane. Unexpected. Or maybe my power helps.

I forget about my promise to Payne. White and cold and the strange buzzing in every bone waits for me. Sick to the stomach and so much evil. Not inside me. Out there.

“You forgot to lock the door, mommy.”

I’m here. Let the party start.

The white robe move ungraciously for the first time maybe in existence. Surprise. About fucking time for someone other than me to feel that.

“Get out of here. NOW!”

The voice impacts my ears and almost leaves me deaf. I see it the moment it touches me. The cause of evil. The cold, sickening shadow of death. The Omega. Wrapped around me.


	11. XI

Day 3

Marissa gets out of bed carefully and walks to the only place where she wants to be. She feels guilty most of all and needs to see he’s alright. The blood Vishous gave to her was as strong as the warrior himself and she feels better by the hour. But the screams and shouting makes her dizzy and no one can keep her in the bad when across the hall the stranded voice of her male sounds like agony.

When she opens the door, she needs to hold herself good against the frame. A sickening smell of burned flesh and a pool of black goo on the floor next to Butch. The walls are scorched and blackened, the bed a memory.

Wrapped in himself, the male looks even worse. His skin a reddish dark, cracked and with blood dripping in rivulets to mix red with black.

She holds her breath and her heart. She knew this will happen. From the moment Butch chose this life. But she couldn’t and still can’t see him like this, so far away from her she almost remembers him as a different male. An image she created for herself, from the first moment she saw him as a human. So unlike Wrath and any other male who would die for the vampire race. A male of hers and only hers. What a fantasy that was…

After centuries of being selfless, giving and expecting nothing, she asked too much of Butch. Asked everything. And she almost lost him so many times.  

Payne is there next to him, holding his shoulders and pushing him back against the floor. His strength as gone as his color, she can easily put him to rest. The screams never stop “Vishous! V!” and Marissa wishes in that moment the blood V gave her could carry his healing powers. She feels helpless. Unneeded.

Butch only stops when Payne cradles his head in her lap and speaks in his ear. The touch is careful and still the male hurts. Marissa cringes at his every small sound or maybe gasp, because Payne looks up at her, eyes burning, like the ones of her half god brother. The same intensity, determination and knowledge.

Another image, but the same spirit, there to help her male.

 

_[She thought of the Brother and his disarming diamond eyes and the tattoos at his temple… and his obvious dislike of her. He was the only one who came into the room without protective clothing on and he dropped by twice a day, at the beginning and the end of night._

_"V's been here to visit?"_

_"He lays his hand above your belly. It eases you." The first time that warrior had stripped the sheets from Butch's body and pulled up the hospital johnny, she'd been speechless both at the intimate sight and the Brother's authority. But then she'd grown mute for another reason. Butch's belly wound had been frightening—and then Vishous had scared her, too. He'd taken off the glove she'd always seen him wear, revealing a glowing hand that was tattooed front to back._

_She'd been terrified about what would happen next, but Vishous just hovered that palm of his about three inches over Butch's belly. Even in the coma, Butch had sighed raggedly in relief._

_Afterward, Vishous had rearranged the hospital johnny and the bedsheets and turned to her. He'd told her to close her eyes, and though she was scared of him, she did. Almost immediately a profound peace had come over her, as if she were bathed in white, calming light. He did that to her each time before he left, and she knew he was protecting her. Although she couldn't think of why, given that he clearly despised her.]_

Only now, after what Vishous did for her, asked by Butch, she knows the warrior would do anything if he asked. And after what he told her before offering his blood, she knows he doesn’t despise her. He craves what she has. Butch. The tortured eyes she often saw on the male, the way Butch sometimes holds her instead of making love to her when Vishous is home…

Butch knows. Of course he does. And calls for the male able to heal him and who still wants him, even if he did nothing but respect their union.

Payne caresses Butch and still looks at her, waiting for something. Marissa doesn’t know why, but she nods and the female concentrates back on the suffering male.

The same white light her brother has covers Butch, but the effect is slightly different. She imagines Vishous bringing Butch back from the brink of death. The burns on this body, healing so hard, must only come from that cursed hand of the warrior. And if Payne is here, only she can heal them. Not her blood, not the doctors here.

The scene is surreal. With Butch being this prophesized savior of the race, and the two demigods with powers of life and death, the three seem creatures created for the same purpose, of completing a circle. With no place for her.

She kneels on the floor, closer to the healing body and dares to hold his hand. There’s a slight movement and those eyes open to meet hers in silence. The smile he gives her is sad and something deeper should be said, but nothing comes out, except his relieved breath and a sigh from time to time. The hand is burning and she’s afraid to hurt him, but he holds on to her and she stands still.

Down his naked body, covered waist down with an already dirty sheet, she can see how Payne heals him and the traces of burns retract to the skin until they fade. On his belly, the cursed black spot, now grey, and on his chest, next to his heart, the clear form of a hand. In complete black, the space there heavily scared, more so than the rest of his body.

When Payne touches the handprint, and it begins to heal, Butch lets go of Marissa.

“Don’t.”

He catches the female’s hand before she can completely erase the scar. Marissa can’t understand, but Payne looks at him knowingly and retreats, leaving visible the pale sight of the burn, now looking years old. But still there, carved into the skin above his heart forever. The sign of his savior. Vishous.

Butch looks back at Marissa then and whispers in a hoarse voice.

“Battle scar.”

She nods, even if it isn’t just that, is it? It’s something as important as the scar on his back, holding her name. And she understands.

 

***

 

Trapped. Not in a good way. It can’t kill me here. The bitch won’t let it. She tried to warn me off. Play for time. Ignore the Omega. Good strategy? We’ll see.

“You LIED.”

Directed at her, the again impassible silhouette. She knows what I’m talking about, but this can apply to so many other things I’m curious with what she’ll start. Or if she does start.

“You shall release him, cursed one.”

“Oh sister, now? When I’m so grateful you invited your family to dine with us? And I thought you were ashamed of me.”

“I said release him. You are on my territory.”

“At your invitation, remember.”

Growl.

“Oh look, he doesn’t know. Surely you must have suspected something.”

“Yeah, from the moment your pale fuckdolls developed a blind eye for me.”

“See. He is as smart as you believe he is. Or not…”

“Why don’t you enlighten me … mother. Why am I off limits and it’s open season for Butch. And don’t give me that no questions shit, ‘cause I’m not in the mood.”

“Feisty. I like him. Don’t you think he has some of me in him?”

“Never. Silence. My son…”

“Don’t need a teary introduction. Just cut the crap and while I still can breathe in smoky’s arms here, do me a favor and be honest. Can you do that?”

This is bad. The Omega here I never saw coming. I bluffed. This shit is beyond serious.

“Oh let’s tell him. He’s right you know. The more I hold onto him, the less time he has.”

I know fucker. I can feel evil crawling inside me. I’m weaker and the only thing I can do is stand still and play nice. Hope for back up. Do I? Hope for back up? Hope is for sissies. I know Payne will be here any minute. She’ll see I disappeared. Do I want her here? Not exactly. But I want to live. And someone has to die.

 “Take his life and I-“

“What? Take mine, sister. You know as well as I do we can’t hurt each other. Our Father and his sick sense of love.”

“I will do everything in my powers to make you pay.”

“Hey now, don’t fight over me. Why don’t you pass over declaring revenge while I’m still alive and do as Exhaust here offered. Talk to me.”

“I do not want you to perish my son.”

“Well tough shit. I do want you to. Seems none of us will get what we want. Tell me why you two met up for dinner.”

“To talk about the Dheal, obviously. And about how naughty you kids are.”

Dheal?  Oh, now I’m in a Goethe world. Like this one isn’t twisted enough. A devil making a deal with another devil. Yeah, original.

“And in exchange of my life you …mother –spit the word -, what do you get?”

“She lets me play with humans and keeps you boys home. Well fed and entertained.”

What? A truce with the lessers?

 “But don’t flatter yourself. The Dheal is not just about you, even if it was born the same day you were.”

“No more.”

I need her to shut up. Any info is good info. And Deep throat here enjoys singing.

“Who is he going to tell? He’ll die by my hand, well…metaphorically. And the Dheal won’t be needed anymore. The Dhestroyer can’t …destroy me without him. And you sister…I think you’ll enjoy having just one brat to take care of.”

The Dhestroyer. Butch.

“This is not the path-”

“Hush now sister mine. Maybe we overcomplicated things.”

“Feeling lonely here. Wanna answer some questions or you’ll continue to rant?”

“Bored, son of Bloodletter?”

“Annoyed. Can’t kill a male and ignore his last wish.”

The chilling laughter freezes my bones. I can barely move and time has no meaning. Any trace of my powers is gone under so much evil I can only clench my stomach not to throw up.

“Well then, let me see. Your pretty mother here came to me after you were born. Maybe postpartum depression or something, I’ll never know. And she offered me this Dheal. To keep away from you and your sister for the rest of your lives. We meat once. After you fled your father’s camp. You were young and near dead, but I let you live.”

“Out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Oh…”

“Silence now! I will not tell you once more.”

“You want to pick it up from here sister?”

“Yes. I shall tell him.”

Finally. It takes everything to concentrate. Payne...

“The prophecy was written. That of the Dhestroyer. The Omega asked for me to keep him away when he’ll arrive.”

“And tell him how you broke the Dheal first.”

“You, my son, connected to him when he appeared.”

“And you killed his father.” Bitch.

“Yes…yes I did. Allowing him to be taken, so that our world to never know the boy. And you.”

She wanted him away from me. From the start.

“He was meant to be your tool, demigod. Your toy. The way to destroy me.”

The shadow giggles. Actually fucking giggles.

“Yes my son. You were meant to use him to destroy the abominations that are the undead. And eventually…”

“You did a good job. Nice one with my Judd.”

“You motherfu-“

“Now now. I had to try and kill the Dhestroyer. I like it very much to be a deity.”

“And YOU told me he can’t be saved.” The bitch lied. LIES, LIES, LIES.

“There was a way to stop all this, warrior. Without him-”

“Stop what?”

“The destiny that awaits you.”

“Without him there’s no me. Get it? Kill him and I promise you: THERE WILL BE NO YOU!”

“How can you-“

Oh I like to interrupt her. Feel her wonder. See her puzzled. The puppet master surprised by the puppets. Killed by them…maybe.

“I bonded him. He’s MINE. Take him and I take your existence.”

Silence. Here silence is visceral. Fills you and empties you at the same time. And pride. To call him MINE in front of the bitch who kept him away.

“I always took you for one who’d have a thing for toys.”

The fucker doesn’t even know it made a joke. I do have a thing for my Toys. But Butch is more than that. He’s …yeah, same word, over and over, like the dam finally cracked and I can’t stop. Seeing him again…if I ever do, will be a Kodak moment. 

“It is not possible.”

“You should have stayed earlier mom. Enjoy the show, triple x rated.”

“My son…you cannot …bond. He can’t be… yours. ”

 

***

 

A knock wakes him up. Again. In and out of sleep like a baby. Man, this night …day, whatever it was outside, was wearing him out. Waking up without Vishous there was scary as hell. Then the pain was HELL. Luckily, it made Butch realize he wasn’t in the actual Hell. Not in Paradise either and not in between. He was in the same room V brought him back.

Payne was there. Oh, yeah, she worked her magic on him. Those eerie eyes keeping him calm while she healed most part of his body. This felt wrong. Unjust. His little sister was a mess when they found her. She could never become whole again. Him? Throw him to the gates of death and once back, he was as good as new. Well, almost.

The place on his chest still hurt. The place where V put his hand and willed him back to life. Why and how? He said it himself. MINE. One word, resonating again and again in the room. Mixing with the scent V left behind on his skin? Was it still there? Was it a dream?

“Hi.”

Marissa. She was holding his hand. So that part wasn’t a dream. He wanted to say she smelled good. But then realized it was V’s blood he was sensing inside her.  The realization was a double edged knife. He wasn’t allowed to feel jealousy and it was sick of him to feel it for his shellan. Poor Marissa. He should ask forgiveness like a dog. Not for something he did, but for everything he ever said. To her and to Vishous.

“Don’t try to talk. Here, drink this. You are really dehydrated.”

Need to say something. Explain.

“I know. Butch …I know. He’ll be back.”

“I…”

“You were screaming for him. Don’t worry. He’ll be back. He’s always back for you.”

The resignation in her voice kills him. But she smiles an encouraging smile, like he’s the one who needs reassurance. She knows. She knows what he can’t understand.

That he needs V. And wants him.  

Nothing could be more messed up. Maybe things would be easier if what V gave him…he could give back. But except for that insane need to have him close and everyone else away from him…he didn’t offer much. Not his bonding scent, not the MINE Vishous deserved in return. And THAT felt like the last straw. From confusing, the situation went to damn right psychotic. 

“You think you can move? We need to clean you up.”

Doc Jane. Dark and not even trying to become corporeal. Another knife in his mind. Great.

“Yeah.” Damn, his throat hurt. Even that word was too much. I’m just fine. Fit as a fiddle, ready to move and maybe run and hide from all of you. Except, he didn’t wanted to run. Not anymore. And with V here –to fucking hold his hand or something- or with him gone to god know where, he’s gonna keep his part of the deal. Clear things out.

He wants to ask…but maybe his first words shouldn’t be “Hi, nice to see you all, now where is V?” So he tries to get up and keep as much decency as he can. Payne helps him up and there’s no need for male pride. She can handle his weight. When she speaks, there’s no sign of fatigue in her voice.

“You should prepare for some visits. Brother Rhage waits for the call. Wrath too.”

“How …long…”

“Almost a day.”

Marissa supports his other side and doc Jane opens the doors for them. When in the hallway, Wrath almost smashes the door to the clinic.

“Early…”

“So you all lost ability to use phones. Nice to see you all pink and breathing, cop. Now where’s that son of bitch who dragged you back? He and I had an appointment. I don’t like to be stood up.”

Before the stupid need to stand up for the male kicks in, Butch hears Payne answer.

“He’s not with you?”            

“Obviously, female.”

“Don’t-“

“Hey. Stop. I thought you knew. He’s on the Other Side.”

Like on command, every pair of eyes in the room turns to Jane. Her form still transparent, her face more readable. She’s worried. Butch can only guess what his face looks like. It was never pretty. Now…more like viciously deformed. No way had the bastard gone alone. He’s too smart for that.

“He can’t be. Not without me.”

“I…”

Jane retreats to a corner. Maybe she’s afraid. No…Butch wouldn’t shake her for being so stupid as to not tell them. Would he?

“He just had to choose the same day as you to be stupid as fuck didn’t he?”

The King is pissed. Beyond pissed. His blind eyes projecting rays into Butch’s skull. Like he needs any more stabbing. Panic takes over. The last time V spoke about his…mother, he was set on kill mode. Maybe he can even do it, Butch has no idea how deity works. But not tonight. Not now. AND NOT WITHOUT HIM there to have his back.

“I have to go there. Now.”

“Take –fuck, he needs to clear his throat- me…” Hopefully, Payne will understand his plea. He needs to be there and see the male. Make sure…make damn sure he’s in one piece. Or else…

“You need to rest.”

“The fuck –“

“Stop. Just stop already.”

That’s as loud as he ever heard Marissa raise her voice. The female has her hands squeezed into fists and trembles slightly. It worries him.

“Take him with you Payne. Please.”

He can’t even comprehend the thought that this female supports his request. He can only thank her. And only with his eyes.

“If something happens…and I see how worried you are, and this means something will happen…he needs to be there. You three need to be there.”

Say yes Payne. Say yes because I would hate to beg. V’s sister looks at Marissa, then at him and finally at Wrath.

“Don’t look at me. I can’t go there. I tried. And we need some answers,” the King says, leaving the option for them to refuse and think better about it. Like there’s anything to think about.

No matter what will happen on the other side, they will come back with the whole truth. And hopefully, with a body to call whole.

 

***

 

“You cannot claim him. You cannot feel that. You are not created to feel that. ”

No. She lies. Again, only lies from her snake tongue.

“No. You bitch.”  NO, no, no. NOOO! ”You can’t take that away from me! Not after what you did.”

The abandon, the torture in the sadist’s camp, the lies to make me believe I’ll go insane. Keeping Payne away. This is just another lie. Focus. Stay calm.

“No more lies, son of mine. You do not live for one. You live for the race. I offered you the position of Primale for that reason.”

“No. No. Shut up!”

“Yes, it was also to keep you away from the Dhestroyer.”

“And Jane? She was what? A happy fuckyou  gift? Therapy session?”

“You were beginning to stray from your path-“

“You mean the path you decided for me.” Speak the truth, lying heartless impersonation of a mother.

“Yes. The path I thought to be less painful for you.”

“Like you know pain. Like you have any fucking idea.”

“Now now warrior, is that a way to talk to your mother? She’s trying to tell you something.”

“You shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, how hot you become when you get mad. Remember I hold you and I can leave you cold if I want to.”

“And why don’t you?”

Try. Just try. This hate in me is enough to obliterate the entire place. Try me fucker. Give me a reason to blow up all of us.

“I’m having a good time. Why do you think? I am sorry. Go on, sister. It’s fascinating to hear the plan you had for this …puppets.”

Burning. Burning against the cold and dark. The shadow now up my arms and chest. Climbing. Constricting. Soon it’ll swallow me. Too soon.

“The destiny you have…the one given to you, and your sister, is much more painful than what I offered. The human, Dhestroyer, was supposed to be a tool to control this war. But you had…feelings for him.”

“Have. I HAVE …feelings for him. He’s mine.”

“Yours to control, not love. Not have.”

“Bullshit.”

“You believed you wanted him so much… you almost lost your powers. The crossroad that almost killed you…So I gave you her. The human doctor. And you seemed happy.”

“It wasn’t easy…with her either.”

Not a walk in the park to see her die and bring her back. To have her and to let her go. To see in her eyes how she knew all along I’ll someday chose someone else. Him. MINE.

“You wouldn’t accept easy things my son. And now you’ll have nothing. You abandon your race, your shellan, because she will fade. You forsake your sister. And him. ”

The shadow reaches my eyes and the back of my eyelids freezes. Short-circuits in my synapses keep me conscious. The bitch won’t stop the Omega. She can’t. I almost revel in her impotence. The lying scum. Nothing she says can be true. Nothing she comes up with. Just lies.

“If any of the shit you say is true…then why? What is my destiny? And Payne’s?”

“You were-“

“No nonono sister mine. Wait for it. Wait for him to come near his last breath to tell him. The irony there. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

Nonsense. Only nonsense. They speak but I can’t hear anymore. My heart constricts. No more room to beat. Or feel. One last thought. I don’t regret my life. They wouldn’t be there, safe, if not for me. Payne free. And three hundred years of waiting alone for him. To save his life. Claim him even if they say I can’t. It was worth it.

Dark. Cold. Alone.

“Both...go…to…h…hell”.

 

***

 

 It takes less than a second for her eyes to adjust to the light. The male she has by her side still dazed, she catches his wrist and tries to get him to shelter. He flinches. Delayed reactions. He’ll be no good in a fight. Not the kind of fight this situation promises.

And then he sees what she sees. She knows by the way he stops any move and begins to burn.

The Omega, larger than life, sucking light and life and any sight of white from the place into itself. And there, down, underneath the tar black robe, a hand. Tattooed and motionless. And worst of all, grey.

 She knows it’s him, but she can’t reach him with her mind. Is she too late? Why is he here alone when he promised her?

The next thing she knows, Payne is violently pulled along towards the two specters. Butch uses all his force and more. She loses his hand. Two steps away from the scene. The male is instantly crouched, one hand gripping her brother, the other planted in the Omegas robes, near where the throat should be.

He’s growling like a crazed animal, fangs elongated and an electric smell of rage permeating the air around them.

“IT IS a family dinner. My son is here too.”

“Fuck you. Let him go. NOW!”

The Scribe Virgin catches Payne’s hand before she can reach for Butch, to help him get her brother out.

“Stay away from it my daughter.”

“It’s killing them! Let me go!”

She witnesses helpless at how the shadow of the Omega slowly eats its way to the rest of her brother’s body and closing in on the Dhestroyer. The male desperately tries to pull Vishous away from the darkness. All his muscles protruding the skin, almost snapping in effort. His fingers clench the hand, fingernails leaving red trails behind. It’s helpless.

“NO! V! Noooo!”

The anger in her mixes with desperation and a sense of loss felt deep into the heart that pumps the blood they share. She can’t lose her brother. She tries to get free of her mother’s grip but it becomes stronger with her every try.

“Tell them now. I’ll make sure he hears. Tell them why you did this. Why we played with their lives.”

Payne feels the tears on her cheeks only when she sees the ones on Butch’s face. He’s not listening, focusing only on that wrist still free of the Omega. The warrior is in agony, nearly nothing left of her brother for him to touch. And then, just when she thinks the Scribe Virgin loosens her grip, maybe preparing to speak, Butch make a sound different from anything human or vampire. It rips her heart. And he plunges his teeth into the gray wrist he holds with a primeval savagery.

And she feels it. The exact moment her brother reacts to the bite. There is still hope.

“What?! How…”

A surprise even to the Omega itself, the feeling of Vishous coming back is followed by the glow in his hand. From within the Omega, helped by Butch, who still has his fangs in that glowing hand and pulls on it for dear life, the male slowly becomes visible.

“This can’t be!” a mad Omega screams in the voice of doom.

“Help them mother. Please.”

Butch releases the wrist and grabs the hand, them the arm and soon her brother’s neck. The light covers them both and pale eyes fix onto hers.

“Try to help them and you know what happens. Stay away. I’ll finish them both. Once and for all.”

“No. Take the Dhestroyer. He’s at your feet. Let my son go.”

Never looking away from those eyes she sees everyday on herself, Payne can feel how the deal their mother offers now affects Vishous. He would rather die than let Butch be taken. No…he has something else in mind. He…he would rather kill the Scribe Virgin.

Because…the Scribe Virgin is connected to the Omega. Brother and sister…like them. And they played them all along, doing unthinkable deeds. Perverted games. She sees them all, passed onto her by his thoughts.  

And then it hits her. The command blasts its way into her brain as clear as day. Their connection so powerful they might as well talk aloud and it still wouldn’t be that loud. He wants her to leave. Leave them and get to safety.

“No…” she needs to say it, needs for him to understand she’ll never again leave him. Not like everyone in his life did. If it’s time for them to die…she’ll go with him. Fighting beside him. Never run.

“I’m in. Let them leave and take me.”

The connection between them breaks. Vishous turns his eyes to the male kneeling next to him, who spoke the words, and grabs his hair.

“NO.”

“Shut it V.”

“Fuck you cop. Aren’t you done with stupid?”

“So Smokey, do we have a deal?”

“Butch…”

“So noble of you. A toy to exchange its life for the handler. If I only had a heart…”

“DO WE HAVE A DEAL?”

“Yes. I’ll take you and end this Prophecy. And for dessert, I’ll enjoy seeing your savior here in as much pain maybe as you’ll be. After all, against all odds and laws, he is bonded to you. Strange rules you made for your race, sister. And again I say, very stubborn children.”

Bonded. Her brother chose this male as his. Even if…The revelation saddens her. She felt he wasn’t happy or at peace from the moment she saw him. Closed and miserable, until earlier today, when she was with Marissa and his happiness reached her. Utter happiness. She thought it was only from saving Butch. Now she knows it was because he claimed him. To have the one right for you finally there…that was completion.

For that one to die under your eyes…that was destruction. To have your mother hand him over to his death was the most cruel act of treason. Yeas, the Scribe deserves to die. But her alone and Vishous by himself can’t end her existence. Maybe both.

For it to work, she’ll need to risk it all. They have only one chance. And she needs her brother close.

“Brother mine, come here.”

He looks at her like she’s insane.

“What?”

“Go V.”

“Fuck you cop. I’m not letting go.”

He doesn’t need to. The Omega hits him with so much force he flies across to them and the Virgin grabs hold of him too. She also takes his hand and prays for this to work.

As soon as he’s restrained, Vishous fights and growls to be set free. He’s too desperate and focused on Butch to listen to what she’s trying to say to him with her mind. So she’ll need to trust his instincts. And she needs all of them active, roaring inside him. One thing could trigger that response.

It’s all or nothing.

“Go ahead. Take him and leave us. Now!”

The Omega buzzes with evil and hate. Or maybe that’s Vishous next to her. She doesn’t know for sure. But she plans her moves, places one foot in position to have the right angle and squeezes his resisting hand.

“One thing before that. One question. Warrior!”

 Butch looks at her, a mix of gratitude and pain and hate in his eyes. And a lot of fear.

“Why do you do this?”

He’s puzzled by the question. Her brother too.

“Why risk everything you are for us? For two vampires who share blood with this creature who fails you so.”

“Not for you. For him.”

That’s is Dhestroyer, she thinks. Tell me. Tell him why.

“Say it warrior. Why?”

Butch then looks away from her and straight into her brother’s eyes. And the expression there tells her she was right. But she needs the words.

“Tell him WHY you’re ready to break him. TELL HIM NOW!”

“Because he’s MINE.”

And that word did it. Her plan worked. Vishous comes to life with every nerve end in him. Lighting the space, torching the landscape. So much power she feels almost divine. That is when she does it.

With a change of grip, she uses both their hands, clasped together and radiating, to strike the Virgins body. All they have. All she has. Centuries of hate and lies and never freedom. Need and hope and her brother’s love.

The impact is so powerful the robed entity screams in agony with a chilling sound. For a moment the light is so bright she believes the universe collapsed on itself and rebirth happened all at once.

Then she can see and she sees him. The same eyes she has, looking back at her and inside her. She feels him too. Twin power.

The world around them starts to collapse, trees and horizons fading in the noise of destruction, along with a part of them.

The Scribe Virgin is dead. Or dying. Along with the world she created. And the effect is what she hoped it will be. Hoped with all her heart this would work. It almost completely did.

The Omega fades away, laughing and chanting “You made me immortal.”Maybe nonsense. It disappears, maybe to die or crawl back into its world.

But the Dhestroyer is free from its grasp.

“What did you do…my child? What did you do…”.

The goddess weeps for the first time in existence. 


	12. XII

Night 4

“Rhage, quit with the modeling already.”

The vampire stops the pacing and chews loudly on his tootsie roll. It’s never a good idea to cage lions. And the king’s office is now packed with all the gang of wild animals. They all wait. And that is another bad idea. Because waiting is not what their good at. 

The helpless of them all is the king himself. After Payne left with the cop, all he could do was wait for news and hope he’ll get his warriors back. In one piece. The prospect of them being obliterated by an angry goddess was unthinkable. But very possible. 

“There’s no way we can check on things. Not even the Chosen can go back to the Other side, my lord”

Phury tried. Went against all reason and decided to risk sending one of his protégées there. No luck, or maybe some luck, because if the gates are sealed, then what happens there is beyond serious. 

Even if all of them scream in their heads, the room is buried in silence. That is, until the door is pushed aside with no warning.

“Wrath!”

Marissa enters, breathing heavily, protocol and manners forgotten.

“Jane. It’s Jane.”

Everyone in the office can tell when a name spoken that way means trouble. Beth comes near Marissa and the weakened female almost collapses from exertion. 

“What happened?”

“She…she’s fading.”

 

***

 

Need to get out of here. Back home. Take Butch to safety. Take Payne to safety. Control yourself. Breathe. Fuck, I did it. We did it. We killed the bitch. Relief…were the fuck is my relief? What is this buzz inside me?

“You can feel it already my son. The consequence of what you did.”

She speaks. Not dead yet. Everything around is. How can it even be possible? I calculated the odds. Nights and nights of thinking about revenge. Why?

“Why?”

“I don’t have much time and I will tell you everything. The Great father created me with a destiny. You see, my son, you are not the only one tied to one. I had my burden to carry.”

“Us. We were the burden.”

“No…I was grateful to have you two. Only that the prophecy you carry with you meant my end. And I wasn’t ready. Neither were you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Payne. She glows with power. She saved my life. By saving him. My cop is exactly seven inches to my left. I can feel him like I feel my own breath. My blood in him again. Ah, my raw wrist. Almost forgot. My lifeline. Stupid metaphors. 

“It was my destiny to one day give birth to twins within the race I created. One able to create, the other to destroy. Your destiny was known since I existed. To wait for the Dhestroyer prophecy to find its fulfillment and be born. So that you, Vishous, son of the Bloodletter and mine, to use him to destroy the Omega. By sacrificing him. That was what should have happened. Destroy the darkness first. Once the Omega was no more, I …could have gone to rest in my Father’s kingdom. Leaving you responsible for the balance between good and evil, light and darkness.”

“What?!”

“You have the dark inside you my son. And the power to destroy. Also the power to keep safe only the one meant to die, sacrificed in order for you to fulfill your destiny. That is why you felt the Dhestroyer when he came. He was the way for you to get what was yours. Power. As the new Omega, the end and the dark. To control the Dhund and punish those of your race whose wrongs cannot be forgiven. This is who you were supposed to be.”

No. This…fuck. Anger. Confusion. Get a hold of yourself. I control my life. The proof stands close to me now. The one I call mine. Not afraid of me. I would never…

“This doesn’t mean those abominations called lessers would have been yours to control. They were a game of the Omega. The dark one disobeyed the rules, did unthinkable things. And our father …forgot about us maybe.”

So mortal. She seems so mortal. Vulnerable. The victim of her own plots.

“It is a great burden for you. So I tried to prevent it. After having you two with me and seeing the power you both have when together, I sent you to your father. To make you see evil and pain. To prepare you for your life.”

“And I should thank you?”

“No, I never expected it. Do not think I didn’t suffer for you. My son, to become my enemy.”

“You were watching your own ass. Don’t give me the crap about caring and protecting us.”

“I kept my daughter next to me so that the Omega would never find her. Because she is the future of the race. Your equal. The balance to your power. She is the Scribe Virgin.”

Payne watches me. Scared. Her eyes so much like mine. Do I look so scared too?

“We will never be enemies. Never like you, mother.”

“I know my daughter. You have a great responsibility now. And you will find that sometimes, in order to keep the balance, sacrifices, compromises need to be made. You will be alone, watching over a race that needs to fight an immortal enemy with endless destruction powers.”

“The Omega can’t be destroyed now?”

“You cannot interfere Payne. And you, Dhestroyer, are not powerful enough to go against the Omega now. Neither are you, my son. Not alone.”

Not alone. But together? Think, think. This is too much. Warm under my burning hand. I grabbed his knee. Crouched beside me, Butch doesn’t take his eyes of her. I want to ask him if he’s okay. Sissy. I want to tell him everything will be okay. I can’t lie. But I can tell him that he’ll be safe. Forever. His hand wraps around my wrist, to keep my blood inside. One touch. Not enough. 

“I’m fading. My daughter, take care of them. I loved you all. My son, please forgive me. I wanted a good life for you.”

“And look what a great job you did.”

“I am sorry. I gave you the one you chose back to you. Now, she will fade along with me.”

“You cheated her like you cheated me. And him.”

“You needed someone to feel complete. I can’t say I understand that need. But Dhestroyer was yours to use, not love. I never knew it was possible for you to bond.”

“Well … surfuckingprise.”

“I do not know what fate brings you now. Your path is lost to me since you are not the Omega. I lost you. And you lost part of yourself.”

“You lost me the moment you had me. Us. You lost us.”

“And yet my daughter stands beside me fulfilling her destiny and replacing me.”

“I can’t do what you did. Not like that. I will never be you.”

“You have your own will. Always had. Things will be hard, but you will do the right thing for your race. The king calls out to me. I can’t keep this place anymore. I don’t have the power. Be strong, blessed children of mine. And forgive your mother, if not your Scribe Virgin. She needed to do those things. I weep for you and hope you will find a way to resist the darkness.”

“Wait! What are we up against?”

“The immortal Omega can create immortal lesser, no longer affected by the Dhestroyer. And it will try to take over as many humans as it can. And destroy you all. But remember my daughter, as long as you can find it in you to stay away, it can’t touch you. Keep them all safe, even with the price of isolation.”

“Never.”

“You will understand. In time. You are so young still. Both of you are so young…Now get out. Try to get out! NOW!”

She fades. Should I care? She was the one who gave birth to me. Should I? Payne looks at me. She is…what to me now? What am I? 

The place darkens. Keep him safe. Turn to him. Be a shield. He pushes his palms against my chest. Bliss. Here, in hell. I try to stupidly protect him even if he’s as strong as I am. He would kick my ass if the situation would allow it. My cop. And by keeping him this close, as far away from the splinters –where do they come from- and electric clouds, safe as I can, I belong to him more than he belongs to me. I’m as hopeless as fuck.

The roaring wind is deafening. How the fuck can there be wind here? Reality collapses. Can we even get out? Payne. My cop in my arms, I look at her. Panic. A question. I hate myself for not knowing the answer. I don’t know how to get out of here. Not in this hell. It’s getting worse. Fuck you …mom, for leaving us with a death sentence of a fortune cookie and trapped in this. 

There. Light. Calculating the distance: too far. And not a good sight. That’s the other side. As clear as in a bowl. Closing, leaving us stranded. No air. Estimate time to asphyxiation: …Abandon thought. Butch looks straight at me. 

He smiles. Fucking grins his stupid contagious trademark smile. My reflection in his hazel brown eyes. Shit, now I see everything about him so much clearer. Given time, maybe I would have written him love poems. Shit, maybe death isn’t so bad. Better than becoming a fucking love sick puppy. I’m not that. Not more than I am the Omega. Ah, right, I’m not the Omega, never will be. Not now. Regret? Abandon thought. Distraction. 

A hand touches the back of my neck. Butch. Squeezes. Still smiling. At me. Understanding and so much devotion I can sure as fuck die at peace. And that something else, so compelling in its insecurity I could die from cuteness attack. Want. Yeah, ever tell him the word cute to his face and you’ll surely die. Bonded or not. Bonded. To my glorious screwed up self. 

I’m not gonna die here, even if this scenarios is too fucking close to my vision with us intertwined in a cloud. No, that wasn’t our death I saw. It was our beginning. 

He still grins, hand moving in slow circles in my hair. Hypnotizing. Not fair cop, I’m the one capable of doing that. I’m gonna wipe that grin of yours someday off your face –probably by fucking you senseless - abandon thought - and that insecurity in your eyes. You don’t know half of what I have in mind. You try to calm me. Do I look worried? Trust me cop. True? 

 

***

 

All this is like a bad dream. Maybe he’s dead and this is his personal hell. With a goddess he doesn’t accept as his own and powerless. Maybe V never healed him. Nah, he never had THAT much imagination. 

And Butch can see V. More clearly than in any dream – not that he dreams about him ALL the time. And he’s worried. Calculating his endless chains of equations. How to get out, how to keep them both safe, like everything is his responsibility. 

The male with no real connection to anyone, now nearly frying his brain to save his two…what? Loves? Shit, that sounds corny. But he is, isn’t he? Butch is the one he loves. Not because he has to, pushed by a chemical reaction, or even because he can. He heard that crazy deity. V can’t bond. And yet he did. Leave it to Vishous to disobey all rules of the world, below or above. 

Oh yeah, and don’t forget you bonded him too. Man, the desperation he felt when biting the male’s wrist almost to the bone. That bastard Omega couldn’t have him. No way. And the idea of sacrifice…clear as daylight. No more sacrifices for V. He would have done it. Give himself to the Omega. For V. 

Payne wanted him to. Did she? She smiled when Butch answered why he does it. Also clear as it can be: because V is HIS and he would rather die than still stand alive once he would be gone. 

And that did it. V went all …almighty god and next to his sister they looked like two Big Bangs. Light and so much power his heart stopped and jumpstarted hit by the waves. When he opened his eyes, the Scribe Virgin was collapsed and V had his hand on him. 

And if that didn’t match the scale for clinically, right of the charts insane, what happened next did. The whole story. The plan for V and Payne. Fuck…did V wanted that power? Of the Omega? No chance now…right? Was it his fault? Too many thoughts. Twists. Plots. Not a whole lot of room in his head right now for that. 

The moment he saw V looking panicked, Butch relaxed. It was his turn to keep the male reassured. They died so many times this would be a proper end. Together. Together together. Another smile spreads on his face. V is even more puzzled. Fuck it, he’s going to do it. For the first fucking time. Somehow death hardens ones balls. He needs stone cojones to do it. And he doesn’t think about it. 

The space between them, small as it is, collapses into a point of reassurance and heat. Butch kisses V. Because he wants to and he doesn’t care anymore. And if this helps the male to relax, then good. But he doesn’t care that they’re in the middle of hell and V needs to calculate and recalculate everything. Butch needs to feel him, because in no fucking way is he going to stop breathing before giving that male back what he received. 

V freezes, waves of that unique scent coming off him and going into the wind. To be joined by Butch’s, a designers fragrance to sweeten the stench of death. 

One powerful hand grabs his hair and this could be dangerous if not so desperate. And just when he thinks he is the one in control, Butch loses what happens next and catches on moments after it happens. 

Payne stands above them, radiating, her hands in V’s free one. The male never takes his eyes away from the cop. But his hand helps her, fuels her and she burns like vampire skin in the sun. 

“Trust me.”

Eyes back to V. The bastard did it. He figured it out. And he smirks like he did the first time he saw him. A big “up yours, destiny” sign in the flesh. If anyone needs to paint a god thing ever again, they should paint this image. And if Butch ever tried to imagine God, his catholic God, releasing his strength, this is how it would look like.

Everything stops like surprised by the light. It’s warm and peaceful. Like going back in time, everything returns into place and even when he can’t look around him anymore, Butch can hear life. Birds, water. The new Scribe Virgin. Payne is the new Scribe Virgin of the race. And he feels respect. 

“We are safe now. Come, brother mine.”

V follows her, not before giving Butch a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. With them is like all the heat is gone. They talk. V looks back at him and …he smiles. A warm, true smile, so rare Butch wishes he’d had his phone. The male’s white fangs elongate and what could be the reason for that? His goatee doesn’t hide his true face anymore. 

Butch slaps the ground and gets up thinking he’s a soft idiot. Because all he can think to say out loud is Beautiful. V would never let him forget it if he did, so he shuts up. And waits. Yeah, he can do that. Wait for the male. For the rest of his life. 

 

***

 

I never let him out of my sight. He gets up and I can smell his erection. Involuntary, because he's exhausted. My blood still in him. It doesn't take long aaanndd...yeah, I mirror it with mine. MINE. I want him. Payne disappears, barer of new news for the Brotherhood. Don't care for now. Close, closer.

“Weird night.”

His voice: the slight indication of something I hate in others and I ...love in him. Hesitation. The vibration of it runs on top of my veins, miles and miles of veins in my body. Whatever else we have between us, he knows where this leads. And wants it. Just can't tell me yet. Can I try to take it without him telling me? Complicated. 

He comes closer -strange reaction to hesitation, he amazes me – and his hand is on my back. The decision forms without me trying to form it: don't overthink this. I lean forward and make my tongue run along the edge of his -still- filthy lower lip. Careful not to bite, or devour. Careful to the point of computer programming line over primeval instinct. -Blood. Sweat. Nerves throbbing to receive me. The sheer force that is him-. 

“You're holding back. Again.”

He taunts me. Should know better than to play this game with me. His reaction time is slower. I move unrestrained. The animal that I am. He's unwound and right there to receive me. Trusting. Only with me. On the ground, face up, me pushing to bury him into me. Flesh and muscles and the organic filth that makes the perfect equation of my cop. 

Lightly sucks my upper lip. Hand slides up to my neck. Blood drops down in my south. The moisture of him in my mouth. A texture I could replicate now. Do I need to? Or he'll give himself to me like this when I need to? I need to all the time. Passion. My senses burn traces of any existence outside this. The tip of his tongue fucking my mouth. 

Should be terrifying. Everything was just fantasy until this moment. I was in control. I wait for the isolation. It doesn't come. It's bliss. Panting – him. And me, but I can't hear myself; only with delays. Everything I am is trained on him. 

“All right?” my voice is scratchy with need. Unguarded, and I don't even know what I'm asking. He knows. He always knows. Hands tremble, releasing themselves from in between our bodies. Uncomfortable. Don't care. Still, he reaches to the T-shirt. His. Bloody and worn. Like me. Like him. 

I show him my cursed hand. An act of what? Patience? Surrender. Upper body naked. More that naked, they should try a new definition for naked after seeing him. Delete thought: no one -else- is going to see him like this. Vulnerable. Giving. And he has no idea he has all the power here. He floors me to the point of embarrassment. 

Flashes of past voyeurism. Collapsing from exertion trying not to stroke myself thinking about him. The past. Now helpful. I look him in the eyes as my hand grips my obvious -to his pelvis- erection. He looses his breath -one, two. I don't need breath. Don't need slow and don't need a pace. Every time I masturbated alone, thinking it was wrong, a prelude to this. To this wright. 

All the chemicals that form me do the wrong...no, right reactions. Shift, interact, fill me to the point of spilling. He's transfixed. Unknowingly opens his jeans. I feel his every move in the tightness of our bodies together. Christmas for my brain, a MRI of bright spots exploding into focus. 

His hand sliding down over my hip, to the small of my back. Too close to continue the movement of my hand. Close being the star word. He presses, grinding into me. His lips form words on the lines and creases of my ear. Years of tenderness and restrained love-making. For him. 

So different from my own experiences. Slow to the point of asphyxiating my senses with overloads is not my game. His. Like I am. 

Shiver: the lines he draws on me making skin hypersensitive. Moan.

“Take your hand away.”

My head falls backward and the reflex pisses me off. I want to see him. Not lose a thing. Fingertips push the waistband of my leather pants all the way down, not just barely under my cock. He wants me naked. His kind of naked, all out nothing hidden, all trusting. Again should be terrified and I'm not. What are you doing to my insanity cop? 

Short nails dig into my scalp and he brings me back. I stare at him. Pupils dilated, panting, lips ...fuck. His hand reaches me. Encircles me. I won't last. I know pain and sex and I know how hard it can be for me to get there. But this erases everything I knew. I'm left with the dumbfounding knowledge I am not wrong...or incomplete or broken. I know that in this moment, I don't need pain. Enough with pain for us. One stroke. Agony. 

I know I'm begging him. I never beg. He doesn't smile. Swollen lips glisten with saliva. I'm thirsty. His body naked -when did he do that?-familiar and unfamiliar for the first time. Unflinching in the face of certain raw desire that might even hurt him. Will I? Can I? 

He's ahead of me already. Griping my sack. I'm not in charge, so I can't be ashamed. Or calculated. Still, fantasies take the lead. And are proven right. The length and width of him mouth watering. I stare. Try not to just sit there like unable to do a fucking thing. The risk of taking him hard and unforgiving to high to gamble with. He wants me, but that might -will-be too much. 

“You're fucking perfect.”

I'm not. His finger stroking my coccyx. I'm really not perfect. Won't disagree for now. Can't. Gooseflesh. I'll come and I barely touched him. Squeeze his biceps like a lifeline. The friction increases. Maddening. Need to prolong this. Not a matter of pride, something more selfish: constant need of him. 

I kiss him. Eyes open. Anonymity won't be part of sex from now on. My release is not a combination of pain-inflicted, received-, domination and revenge. It's him. Tentatively pressing against hard muscle. Groan. 

The need for a distraction far less powerful than the need for release. Still, I try. Press lightly against his chest. With one of my hands. The other refuses to let go of his hair. The way he resists shouldn't be this erotic but it is and I fuck his hand, meeting his strokes with desperation. Selfish again. In my nature. He understands.

“Am I doing this right?”

Stop. Rewind the words. Hard when skin goes back and forth over the sensitive tissue pulsing with boiling blood and precum. Still, hate the insecurity in him. Can't he see? Every time the hand goes underneath the corona of the glans I lose another thought. Need to show him. 

Kiss the burn on his chest. The sign of me. Nuzzle it, lick it, kiss it again. See? See this cop? This says you're mine and I couldn't be more yours than I am now. Can you understand? Don't fucking make me say it. I look in his eyes. Direct the images in my head. For the first time, the images reflect the unaltered reality. I imagine this. Nothing else, more or less. Perfect.

He smiles. Kisses -bites- me hard, to the blood. Pushes my chin up. Throat exposed. The anticipation nearly constricts all my muscles. I could try to name them in my mind to avoid coming in his fist. But then the bite comes, somewhere unanticipated. Above my Brotherhood scar, near my heart. Deep and unforgiving. Growl. Mine, but hard to even recognize. 

I come hard, pulsing, pushing semen out to mark a territory I haven't thought will touch me like this. I rest on him. Guilt over the dopamine and the other stuff my brain ejaculates into my blood stream. Can he even imagine I couldn't come without pain?

“I didn't needed that to...”

“It worked didn't it? Took your mind off things. Mine too.”

He breaths heavily on my neck, his hard-on pushing into my side. A little disturbing, a huge reminder that I owe him.

“My turn.”

“Ohhh. Hold on big guy. I didn't do this to get something in return. I'm not one of your sub-”

My subs. Anonymous. The past.

“Sorry. My mouth gets ahead of me.”

My subs. He saw it once. This is as different from that as the night is different from the day. I hid in those bodies. With him...

“V...just one thing. Tell me I...it...was it good? I don't usually hurry like this just...”

Moron. Him. And me. Should make it clear for him that he gave me the release of my life. He can't doubt that. 

“Cop, you're covered in my sweat and your hand still holds my -for now- flaccid cock. And I want you back even like this. You must be fucking kidding to throw at me the “was it good for you' line.”

He's still thinking he hurried this. Why? Doubts? No. He enjoyed it as much as I did. A hint of surprise for him at that, but so much better than freaking out. 

“And I know why you hurried. If you're good at something, is jumping head first into a situation you dread. You mule. Stupid, but brave. I should make you a banner.”

“V...you're talking too much.”

“Can think of a few way for you to shut my mouth.”

 ***

 Oh man, Butch knows. Somewhere in between thinking if V likes the rushed hand-job, freaking out at the size and getting even hornier in front of it, Butch realized this is just the beginning. It doesn't have to be about sex between them, sure, he told himself that in the rushed crazy minutes he had to think about their ...situation. But erased the thought after V's first moan. That was a stuff he could get addicted to. 

Fuck, he already was. So much so he considered sucking the male off. Yeah, the epitome of the catholic straight man, resisting the urge to get down on his knees and take another cock to as deep as it can go. To taste it and bite it and ...of fuck. 

“Cop...what are you thinking about.”

“Nothing.”

Nothing else but your cock. Only it isn't just “a” cock. Attached to a male. 

It's Vishous, the motherfucker who bonded him and to whom he bonded. The stone cold bastard who for him is ready to die or kill. Effectively. And who looked so opened in his arms, being all naked, inside out, warming and panting and letting go, that Butch never wanted it to end. Except then he wanted V to end, because if he didn't, that meant his experiment failed. 

He wanted the male. True. But was absolutely terrified at the thought of something else than a finger at the most going into...well, him. Experiments with chicks were fun sometimes. Felt good. But that big, veined, glistening...oh man, here he goes again. So he pretty much confirmed his ...Vsexuality. Screw that. It sounds like a pussy excuse for avoiding to say gay. He was gay. For V. 

“Cop...tell me you're not analyzing shit right now. A bad case of blue balls is the last thing you need.”

“I need you to keep quiet for a second V.”

Because Butch needs to think this through. Fuck, he feels happy, even with the said case of the blue balls. He's someone he accepts. Needs nothing more, no one to accept him. A thought crosses his mind and he does it quick, not to have the time to rethink it. 

He licks his sperm coated hand. To be sure. To make sure that when the time comes, he'll like it in his mouth. The string of words crumble in Butch's mind as he tries to make this a V like analysis. The taste is as strong as the male. Unique. Not something to be called sweet or completely pleasant or even good. Just like Vishous. And it covers his tongue and almost takes over his taste buds. Yeah, it's V alright. And he'll want that again in him. Preferably along with the male pumping it into him. 

V just stares at that. Finally, that mouth is quiet. One way to make it stop. And a vivid fantasy of other ways to keep it shut comes to mind. Seriously? He's gonna become walking hard-on? At his age? 

“Cop, seriously. What are you thinking right now?”

“That you're a lucky sonofabitch. Because I've been told I'm a god at... mouth jobs.”

The joke only barely covers his embarrassment, but the picture perfect burning V makes it all worth it. The male's is instantly ready for more action. 

“You need that filthy mouth of yours covered. If you want to leave this place today. True?”

“And you need a hand V. Another one.”

Smirk. Bulls eye. V's diamond eyes stalk him. Butch knows he looks like pray right now. He likes this game. Because he can fight back. Power against power. The sex with this male must be...

“Butch -a slow, deliberate purr- keep those thoughts quiet or make them happen. Because the blue balls hell goes for those with one ball in the sack too.” 

They look at each other and they laugh. Like they did over a stupid comment from Hollywood in one of their hang-out nights.

“Don't bring Rhage into this picture. Not right now, you feel'me?”

“V...like I said, you're far too focused for someone who's just been...”

“Fucked? Yeah, you can call it fuck, cop. And to answer the stupid question you want to ask me: it was...no, YOU were- more than I can handle. There. Satisfied?”

Butch feels his face going pink. 

“Oh, let me rephrase, because satisfied you are NOT. Yet.”

Ok, maybe red. Embarrassing either way. Stupid Irish complexion. But Vishous looks at him serious, his face relaxed and holding the wrinkles of the smile. And his cursed hand goes from Butch's hip bone to the raw bite on his chest.

“Sorry about that.”

V doesn't answer. Keeps his serene look. And presses his palm on the bite, a soft glow making Butch want to come closer to the source. V is healing it, he thinks. Only that when the hand is taken away and cups his cheek, he sees the mark still there, a perfect reminder of his mouth biting and sucking that blood to help V come. All over his hand.

“Don't. I told you I didn't needed the pain for that. I was holding back.”

“Please knock if you want to get inside my mind again. Marriage rules or some shit must cover that.”

The lips under the goatee form an almost tender smile. Rare, so very rare on V. 

“This doesn't mean we're married.”

Butch needs to look twice to make sure the sentence was meant as a joke. It was. V is relaxed, looking intently at the scar he left on his body when he saved him. The form of that cursed hand, above his heart. 

“Well, maybe you like to live in sin, but I'm a good boy-”

“You are. Good. And I do. Like the sin.”

The joke fails to be a joke somewhere in between. By the time V comes closer to lick that scar. And his nipple. And oh...mother of God, his collarbone, earlobe...

“I want to have something of you on me too. Better than a name.”

The whisper sends chills to his bones and a mega boner to his lower parts. To even imagine the male rubbing him, taking him in...Butch's head refuses to listen and pushes against the others neck. Feeling that smooth skin under his cheek is reassuring and like a metronome, the blood running there sets the pace of his heart. 

V could grab him, spun him around and take him. Anyway he wanted. But he won't. He could sleep right here, the best sleep of his life, knowing the male wouldn't flinch or move a muscle to disturb him. Maybe watching him. Maybe kiss him. And that brings a smile to his face.

“So tired...”

V doesn't make another sound, but by the way he changes his position Butch knows he'll get the sleep he's been chasing since...God knows how long it's been since he almost died. And wake up to have the same body next to him. He'll think about that more after some sleep. Yeah. Sounds like a plan.

“The best, cop.”

Butch is far too gone to hear the confirmation.

***

“You are the … what?”

“The Scribe Virgin.”

She doesn't need to elaborate more. The power she now has, plus the fact she basically appeared in mid air inside the study confirmed it for all of them. So they get their heads bowed and they drop to one knee, as if the unwritten rules were the same, no matter who the deity was.

“Don't do that in front of me. You know me. We fought together. Wrath!”

The King finally stands tall and very successfully tries to not look so puzzled. 

“It's a long story. The Scribe Virgin is dead. It was fate. My turn to take care of the... flock. With a very disturbing complication: my brother was supposed to take the place of the Omega. And he didn't.”

Silence all around. She can appreciate the enormity of the news, but now she needs them focused and ready to fight, not dumbfounded.

“Where is V? And the cop?”

“They are...fine. Both of them.”

“Payne...we need him back now. Jane is almost gone.”

Marissa looks at her with puffy eyes from a corner behind the solid bodies.

“He knows. This is fate too.”

“So where do we stand?” the King asks, foretelling a fight and not so good news.

“Yes … we stand at the beginning of a fight. Our last. One way or another, this will be the last with the Omega and its creatures.”

Bodies shift, ready for action, cheers kept silent by the respect for her presence. She knows the warnings her mother gave were not lies. The Omega will be most likely indestructible now. But they need to try, not hide in fear. They all are a proud race. One she cannot see as extinct. 

“I'll go see Jane now. All of you rest and we'll meet here again tonight for the rest of the story.”

Everyone is excusing himself and walks out the door. Payne takes Marissa and follows soon, wishing for her brother to be at peace when he comes back. Losing the one you had beside you, even if the bond is not there anymore, can't be easy. 

On the hallway, the males are lost for words. That is, until a question on a semi serious tone reaches her ears.

“So … do I have to call V... “your majesty” or something, or not?”

Rhage breaks the ice. Every pair of eyes still present on the corridor turns to her. The male in question smiles sheepishly. The instinct makes the others flinch, ready to cut his tongue, but Payne laughs. 

“Only if you like those sorts of games.”

“Not me. But I think he'll loooveee that.”

The blond male grins widely and the others relax too.

Payne's smile is bitter sweet. The power in her is addictive. And she must wonder if her brother would want it too. She knows that in him, the power of the Omega will not turn dark. Would not create monsters. Can she help him take his rightful place now?


	13. XIII

Day 4

“Payne, V is still MIA. I needed to see him.”

“And you see me instead. Should suffice.”

The King is not happy. He should be, but he isn't. It may feel like Christmas for everyone in the mansion, but he still needs to coordinate a war and a legion of distracted warriors does not provide him the upper hand. But what the Scribe Virgin does still cannot be disputed, so he nods and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“I just wanted to present my support.”

“My brother does not mourn like others do.”

“He doesn't do anything like others do.” Wrath says almost like an afterthought and tries to imagine how the death – can it be called death?- of his shellan affected the male. Tohr was beyond hope when it happened to him. And the king knows it would be the same for him if Beth...no, he can't even go there.

“I assure you he will be fine. Tohr will be too, you know.”

“Reading minds?”

“It comes with the job. Not always a blessing and I can't yet control it to the full. I'm sorry for intruding.”

Wrath makes a don't worry about it sign with his hand and goes to sit on his chair. Tired. So tired. 

“You should have waited with the … gifts. Maybe for after the council. The glymera will not be happy if they see us... too happy. I don't know how the news that one of us, the warriors, is now our god.”

“Nothing for them to do about it. It wasn't a role they could have bought. As for my gifts...I only mended some things my mother … played with. The Omega can now create immortal creatures among humans and start the war against us with endless forces, it is only normal I can restore balance by having my warriors at their best. Freedom form curses or unfair laws will make them fight fiercely. And maybe die with peace in their hearts.”

“I'm afraid of the dying part. This war is unlike anything else. Maybe we know too much now. Or not enough. Can you tell me what is going to happen to us if we...die?”

“My mother would have struck you down for asking a question and obliterate you for asking THIS question.”

“Payne, you are not your mother.”

“That...is true. So I will answer you and ask you to keep my answer between these walls. The Fade will be my gift to the pure ones. Waiting for them to live forever in spirit. But in the Dhund, the Omega will wait for those of us too stained for the Fade. Vishous should be the one to judge those and keep them in the Dhund, to redeem their souls and see them re-birthed at some point in time, if they prove worthy. But Vishous is not there and I cannot say what the Omega will do to the damned souls.”

“And the In between where Thor saw his shellan?”

“It was an aberration. A place created by my mother to play twisted games with our fates. It no longer exists. Welsie stepped into the Fade with her young. Tohrment said goodbye to her already. He too is at peace now, ready to move on with his life.”

“Xhex isn't too happy. Her mother...”

“No'One was forgiven for the past choices and she had been released from her In between. She stepped into the Fade with joy. She had time to be with her daughter and she will be mourned by those who loved her. Including the Chosen who she always helped.”

“You were busy.”

“Extremely. And I am now very tired. That is why the doctor needs to see me. So lucky I am that he is also my hellren.”

Payne giggles and the sound feels to Wrath like moons blooming. 

“One more question.”

“If you offer me your arm and accompany me, I can take more than one. You have all the right to know about the changes in your race.”

So he walks to her, fluid as if he can see and takes her fragile arm, intertwining it with his. 

“You should let me restore your sight.”

She offered earlier. For him, it didn't feel right. Felt like cheating. Sure, it was, as she put it, restoring balance, but ...he couldn't accept. Not like Rhage accepted when she offered to take away his beast, or like Phury who got a brand new leg. Z too stood aside and was happy to just watch his brother walk as a whole male again. 

“The nickname grew on me.”

“Yes, my blind king. The name precedes you. And soon you will have visitors.”

“Visitors?”

“From the Old Country. The band of bastards will be back.”

That is not good news. Aside from a war with the Omega, Wrath doesn’t need a game for power. 

“Fear not. All they do is part of their destiny. You will see.”

“Mysterious all of a sudden.”

“How do they say...a girl must have her secrets?”

They soon reach Payne's room and that's good, because she more and more leans on him for support. The healing and receiving souls into the Fade and mending and mind reading and reaching into the future and the past, all in a few hours...can be hard on a body.

“Maybe you should retire to the Other Side. Best place to get your powers back.”

“Maybe you should go to your queen and remember how good it is to be by your loved one side. And then come tell me where I should be.”

She smiles at his sudden quietness and touches his cheek. 

“Go be with her. Let them all be with the ones they love. Let them have a few moments of peace. Tonight we go to war.”

***

It's good to feel the ground under two feet. Phury takes the longer routes to wherever V sends him – which of course pisses the male off – and stands instead of taking a seat when offered -making V even more pissed.

“You're a lovely ballerina, now stand still, for fuck's sake.”

The male swears and barks, but Phury can feel he's actually in a non-lethal mode. And it's really hard to understand why. I mean, doc Jane just disappeared under the male's eyes and everybody feared another Thor scenario. Instead, Vishous left as soon as it happened, back to the Pit, as if it was on fire. 

And then, Phury barely had time to be glad about his gift from Payne, well, the Scribe Virgin, that V almost tore his hand from his shoulder and brought him to the Commodore. In the daylight. Just like that, Vishous dematerialized both of them here and since then his fingers fly on the keyboards, huge screens recording his every move into the cybernetic world he loves so much.

“Yes, thank you for the brief retrospective man, but what about those books? Anything about the Omega?”

Okay, so Payne wasn't the only twin with supercharged powers. It was good to know. 

Sa _y mate, how does it feel to have another hearing your every though? Uhuuu, madness suits you. And it comes...it comes...leg or no leg._

The wizard was right. To have his leg again was almost nothing. Not that he was ungrateful, but the pain wasn't down there. It was in his head. A dark shadow, stealing his every joy. 

_And so much more for me to nick from you now, ain't it beautiful?_

“Phury! Focus for a second. I took you thinking you'll be a fucking handy pair of eyes. We need to get this done or we're dead.”

“Yes, I get you. I'm looking.”

And looking and looking, for a way to kill the Omega. Another way, since the Dhestroyer is now useless. 

“He's NOT useless.”

_This bloke is ridiculously funny fucking with your mind. I don't even need to be here._

No, not useless, Butch can still hold a dagger, but his powers can't be used anymore. The lessers can't be inhaled and the Omega, as V said, is now almighty. Crawling into the streets already, transforming humans, willing or not, into troops for its army. 

Butch was destined to kill the Omega and die in the process. Why didn't he?

“Phury...don't go there if you value your new leg!”

The wave of aggressiveness lowers the temperature in the room. Phury hunches over the books, trying to keep completely quiet. Vishous turns to him. 

“Fuck! Sorry man. I can't control it. It's hard to know if you say some things out loud or it's in your head.”

_Say it. Tell him it's fine even if it isn't. Be a gentleman. What's one more added to our party. Maybe you like it._

Phury wants to say it's okay, but the door almost falls under what seems to be an army attack. Two seconds later and the cop stands in the middle of the room, breathing heavily, eyes trained on Vishous.

“Cop.”

Something is not right between the two. They seem to have a conversation by just staring at each other. Even without the words, Phury still feels like uninvited. And when his hand touches V's shoulder, by mistake, he knows why he feels like that. Butch stares him down with a killer look and pointedly looks at the place on V's body where the contact took place.

“Butch...relax.”

Vishous takes his voice some degrees lower, to the careful area and slowly raises his both hands while stepping away from Phury.

It's unbelievable and surreal the way the cop reacts to V's presence. Phury has to steady himself when the two males meet. The wave of lust and power so intense it hardens him instantly. Impossible to say who closed the gap first, but it's clear to him that Butch was the one who started to devour the others lips. 

The bonding scent reached Phury as a confirmation and it was night outside, so it can't be a daydream. The males were bonded. Acted like bonded, kissed like bonded. And Butch relaxed under V's touch like a under a silent command from a loved one.

In this picture, Phury was the threat. The triggering presence of the illogical possessive instinct. And it all made sense. Why V wasn't shattered by his shellans death, why V reacted the way he did to the cop's name. Why V had a bite mark on his chest and why he unconsciously touched it, almost like a caress, while working. 

Phury needed to leave. To give them space and get away before he could think of something too much like judgment or opinion on the matter. The last thing he needed was V to read some thought that might be forming in his mind. 

So he takes a step towards the door, his target the balcony, from where he can safely dematerialize back to the mansion. And Cormia. 

“Stay.”

The voice pins him to the ground. Both feet. And V doesn't even look at him. He hovers near the cop's lips, staring at them as if he sees his last meal. The sexual vibes do embarrassing things to Phury's body. He tries to cover himself better. And look at something else. Anything but the way V's strings of muscles contracts and sinew down his bare back, veins in his hand push up as he grips the cop. 

“Why did you leave me, V?”

The male almost growls in response, probably disapproving the words of choice.

“I wake up in the Pit, God knows how long I slept and I have no idea if it was a dream. And it's dark and I'm closed in and I'm fucking alone V. At what point did that seemed like a good idea to you?”

“You were safe.”

“I had no idea where I was!” 

“I had to think. You were safe.”

“Shut the fuck up with the safe shit. You can do the thinking in the Pit. With me.”

“No, I can't.”

V answers back a little to quickly and a little too loud. Phury can see perfectly the moment Butch's jaw drops. And he doesn't get to blink once to see V with his hands back on the cop's face, stance changed again.

“It wasn't what I meant. Stop being stupid, cop. Don't think that. It's not THAT.”

“Get the fuck out of my head.”

“Listen.”

“V...let go.”

“Fuck you, you stubborn... idjit. I needed to get away so I can think straight. We're in a war. We're outnumbered. And we need to be on the streets tonight. You will want to be there. And I need to be focused. To think of a way to not put you -us- out there as a sitting duck.”

“You can do that research shit in the Pit.”

Butch's childlike stubbornness and hint of pouting could amuse Phury. But he doesn't dare to think. Or move. Or breathe. 

“I can't think in there. I hear everything. Everyone. And all I did since I brought you back was to think about waking you and fucking you and making you drink of me. Jane was gone and Payne needs to plan a war and all I could fucking do was run back to the Pit and make sure you were there. In my bed. So no cop, I needed to get away. And it fucking hurt, because this bond is like alien superglue shit and it physically tried to prevent me to do anything that could hurt you. But I NEED to keep us all safe. I need you to live. And I need to work.”

Both Butch and Phury are witnesses to the torrent of words. More than they ever heard from V. A soft glow accompanies them and their meaning sinks in. For Phury, it shows a bond beyond words in a male who can, inexplicably, fight it, so he can stay focused. For Butch, it brings the news of Jane's death.

“She's...”

Vishous doesn't answer the awestruck cop. Instead, he turns to Phury and the movement makes the male want to take a step back. Because he looks absolutely predatory. Pupils dilated, nipples erect...and not only nipples. Behind him, Butch runs his hands through his hair and covers his face, inhaling deeply.

“Sorry man.”

The words could be for V, but once he sees Butch's eyes, he knows they are directed at him. The two males will continue the discussion after he'll be gone, Phury realizes. It's too hard to form an answer for the cop so he just waves his hand and head, hoping the Wizard will stay quiet. Because Vishous is right in front of him.

“Trust me.”

All he says before his eyes go black and his burning hand connects with his right temple.

The wizard screams inside his head and scream and screams. And then, after he already lost track of time and the measure of pain, it's only quiet. The kind he never heard.

“Go home Phury. Rest.”

How? He wonders. How can this be? It feels lonely to be alone in his head.

“Will take some time to adjust to the silence. The bastard was too loud. And fucking annoying.”

“You...heard him”

“Since you came back from the clinic that night. Of course, at the time I thought I was insane. Tonight when I saw you again, I knew it wasn't insanity. So I listened and now...I don't have to listen anymore. Call me selfish.”

He'll never call V any less than a brother. Forever. Phury dematerializes with a nod and a smile and not even a single thought in his head. Alone in himself. Finally. 

***

The shutters are up and the black marble reflects the hundred candles V lit along with one of his hand-rolled. It's quiet. Quiet means the soft snore that tells him Butch is happily asleep and the hiss of the burning cigar as he inhales. Quiet is not hearing anyone’s thoughts. And focusing on just one. His cop is reliving the evening, after he stormed into the penthouse to claim him. 

As the vivid images pass from the sleeping form to him, V sets back against the couch, throws away the towel -black- he used to clean his cop and puts the laptop aside. Life seemed complete before. Maybe he was wrong then, maybe he's wrong now. The scent makes his eyes close and his lungs ask for more, so he gives in to the demand and inhales. Bliss. 

The temptation to wake up the cop is strong so he immobilizes his hands under his head and waits for him to come back to consciousness on his own time. Like a guard dog, trained to wait and be content with the repetition of breath in-breath out the body he watches gives. And enjoy the show.

[“I was a dumbass. I'm sorry V.”

The cop looked him in the eyes to apologize and felt relived that Phury left, because he can't say he fully understands what happened there. Enough to know what didn't happen. Vishous sees himself through the cop's eyes, moving away from the desk to come stand near him and disturb his stubborn position in the middle of the room, legs spread, hands on hips. He's embarrassed. By the silly determination to look fierce. He's pushed back by V using the force of his body, all the way to the couch. 

“How did you get here anyway?”

It was a safe question. Logical one. No need to bring up the fact that he panicked at the thought his cop went alone anywhere with a clear shot. 

Butch could say he drove, but the way he handled that car can hardly be called that. He abused it to the limit, all to get here in time. Time for what, he had no idea. But the moment he heard V was at the Commodore with someone his blood started to boil and fast wasn't fast enough. 

All to the disastrous conclusion he needs a head exam, for being such a stupid sorry ass fuck with a sick possessive instinct. Not that V seems to mind at the moment, the cop thinks. And no, V doesn't mind. He keeps coming, even when there's no more room to come. The cop collapses on the couch and V just stands there, looking goodly and in control. Which should be scary, because being in this place, Butch remembers what a powerful, focused, in control V can do. With chains and hooks and …

“Those aren't for you, cop.”

Maybe there was a “yet” breathed in there somewhere but Butch can't tell for sure. He looks transfixed as Vishous throws away his gear, starting with the boots and glove. Not much left then...

“And I'm not in control. Because I have no fucking clue what I'm doing.”

The openness in V makes him shudder. But as he speaks, V goes down to his knees and buries his face in Butch's lap. With the long, hard inhale that follows, he makes the erectile tissue follow, hardening and itching to get under that hot exhale air, obvious even above the fully clothed crotch. It takes Butch every muscle in him to keep his butt down and not push against V's face. 

The images in the cop's dream make V smile. Butch can dream about how he licked his clothed cock, how he bit it through the boxers and then, so much later, kissed its head and received a goodly moan in return. He sits there as a spectator to his own show, given earlier in the evening to the only male that mattered to him. The only one who received his tongue and was welcomed inside his mouth. 

His cop warms next to him in reaction to the memories and seeing what he sees, V completes the picture with the smells, textures, liquids, veins pumping blood, vessels pumping cum, hands grabbing at his hair and him not freaking out. Not even once. 

A slow pace set by the panting and waving of the body between his hands. A gift returned and a selfish need at the same time, combining into something consensual and abso-fucking-lutelly perfect. He wondered once what Marissa had to make Butch respond to her with love and tenderness. It was the wrong question. The material was there in his cop, needed just the right recipient. Complete abandon and reverence to the one he fucked -rectify – he made love to, even if that love making meant giving a handjob or receiving a blowjob. 

The utter amazement in Butch's memory was fuel to V's mind and no mind should work the way his boy's mind worked, no mind should feel so much wonder and desire and gratitude and love. Because he wasn't that perfect being the male was picturing, V knows it. What he sees in those memories is not a body scared and tattered with warning tattoos. It's the incarnation of a god, all curves and angles made to kill and still be gentle and dedicated to bring pleasure. 

He sees himself through those hazel eyes, black head going down to take more of that thick cock, lips eager and unashamed. Beauty. The male's head screams that word over and over again, making V blush even now, maybe with embarrassment, maybe with excitement. He never saw himself like that. 

The still body resting on the couch gave him pleasure and was now spent after receiving it in return. Butch felt him and V felt him feel him and the mix of sensations was enough to keep him sane and on the brink of happiness. Enough to last him in case tonight he'll fail and go down trying to do the impossible and fight an invincible enemy. 

The taste and feel brought down and shuttered the barriers he held from the moment he entered his father's camp. Safe was not to have a body tied and receiving pain. Safe was not control over a mouth that sucked on him. Safe was not the covering of faces. 

His cop was safety. His cop trying not to push too deep, digging his fingers into the leather instead of into his hair, keeping quiet for the first time, not because he was afraid, but because he feared he'll miss something. Somewhere along the way, in between licking and swallowing, while being down on his knees, V found the power over sex he was looking for. The equilibrium needed to have that bond he craved for. 

And maybe the cop almost fainted after he came, maybe he felt V clean him and maybe offered V something in return, like that even mattered, but he's sure Butch didn't hear him say Thank you. And later, as he kissed those lips, saturating them with the smell and taste of sex, V made sure Butch was too far gone to hear him say I love you. 

Because it wasn't something they would say, like carving their names into each others back wasn't their kind of mating, like holding hands and eating cold spaghetti will not be their kind of a date, like crying over death won't be their kind of statement of love. 

They'll die for each other maybe, again and again, and definitely kill for each other and bring themselves back from the death's door. They'll be stained by black blood and covered in bruises and maybe someday tehy'll desperately fuck in a back alley while waiting to be stained by black blood and covered in bruises. And it'll be life the way V never though he'll have. His.

“Mine.” Out loud this time.

“You like that word a lot. OCD-ed control freak motherfucker.”

“And good morning to you too, cop.”

“I feel like all I do is sleep.”

“Death does that to you.”

“I'd say sex does that to me.”

“So you're the do the business, turn and sleep kind of male?”

“Hey...I'm not-”

“I'm just messing with you Butch.”

He does it because for a second he fears his cop will be different. Awkward. The fear passes as soon as the butt naked cop leaves the couch without hesitation or slightest sigh of embarrassment and heads for the bathroom. 

“Nurse Vishous is as thorough as I remember. I'm clean as a baby's bottom.”

“So why leave.”

“You can try, but I doubt you can take a leak in my place.”

The bathroom door stays open, like the penthouse transformed in a matter of hours into the nest of an old couple. V smiles. Butch laughs. 

“You left me souvenir.”

“I did?”

“S'all good, blue suits me.”

When the cop reemerges into the room, he proudly displays one pair of balls and one spent cock hanging soft. Which makes V raise his eyebrow in a not so inconspicuous way.

“No, not that. This.”

Cupping himself, Butch reveals some dark blue bite signs near his jewels, on them and even on his cock.

V should be sorry. Unfortunately for Butch's sense of dignity, the association of bite marks – his- and the lower area of his lovers' body bring only need. Need need, not need to apologize. 

“I'm not expecting any apologizes.”

“Good.”

“But I do need some clothes and you need to tell me for how long I slept.”

“Enough to remember everything I did to you.”

That raises the temperature in the room. Butch stops fumbling with his clothes and stares. Naked, wet and absolutely fuckable. Less gentle this time.

“Okay, we need to stop this permanent hard on condition. Phury was here for a reason. You do everything for a reason. So spill it out. I'm in.”

“Of course you are. Shout crazy, wait for the cop with a death wish to answer.”

“Up yours.”

“We're not there yet.”

“Come on V, quit busting my balls. I'm new to this, no need to make me walk with a permanent blush aside from the above stated hard-on.”

The question means the end of his peaceful retreat. The question means he has to give the answer and the answer means war. Suicidal. Before taking a break and listening to Butch's thoughts, V finished the research he started with Phury. And there was a way to fight the Omega. Well, he thought there was a way. 

Like he said, suicidal. But he'll take that over endless days of going out into the streets and fighting to exhaustion. Because someday he'll get tired and maybe someday he won't be there one hundred percent and maybe that will be that day he'll loose Butch. Inconceivable.

“You'll need to trust me.”

“I trusted you to not bite off my dick and you trusted me not to force you into anything. I'd say we're a couple. Trust comes with the package.”

It makes V smile. And worry. He'll ask the cop to do something insane. He won't understand and still do it. This is what they have. Their bond is not even at the beginning and he resents it. The best thing in his life and the most destructive. Because if things won't work the way he imagined them, extrapolating to the point of illogical, sentimental conclusions, Butch will hate him and be destroyed. Of course, it won't matter. Because V will be dead.

No turning back now. One hour to walk the cop through the plan, convince him and prepare him for the worst, go back to the mansion and make it happen. Piece of cake. 

V hates cake. 

***

Z walks past Wrath's office in a casual stroll. Yeah, my ass. They are all jumpy and waiting for some action. Situation confirmed by the presence of his twin and Rhage in the King's private place. So he walks in. Casually. 

“Sire, did you know about them?”

“About who?”

“Hollywood, shut up for a second.”

“I did.”

Rhage follows the exchange of words with growing eyes. The electrifying blue almost sparkles.

“You're talking about V, aren't you?”

“Now...how could you ques?”

Irony. Rhage doesn't catch on in.

“We always whisper and not use names when we talk about him. Best way to avoid evisceration. So, we're talking about V and ...the cop?”

“WE...are not talking about anyone. I was asking the King a question.”

“About V and Butch. I get it. What about them.”

Phury passes his hand through his hair in an annoyed gesture. 

“They're together.”

“Well...yeah, I knew that.”

“You knew?”

“Yeah. I asked Marissa if the cop showed up and she said he's in the Pit with V.”

“Oh. THAT's what you know.”

“What else?”

“That THEY ARE … doing things...”

“They wrecked your car again? Launched potatoes?”

By now, Wrath makes the semi-embarrassed, semi-annoyed gestures and Z gets his brother's point. Well, not really a bomb-shell. For him. Rhage will have the surprise of his life once he'll get the drift.

“I mean...they always had this vibe...”

Phury continues talking to the King, but Hollywood doesn't give it a rest, making the situation even more comical.

“What does their ring tones have to do with anything? They set Wrath with an embarrassing one? Again?”

“What?!” the King asks.

“No, no...just …shut up.” Phury rushes the words. “They're mated, all right. Getting it on. Possessive phase, in your face, don't care about the rest kind of vibe, mated like me, you, us.”

It takes Rhage two seconds to process the news. Unwraps a tootsie roll, sits.

“Well, that sheds a completely different light onto the past events.”

The three males in the room turn to the blond vampire. Rarely they hear him so coherent and they fear he might be in shock. 

“That's all you have to say?”

“Fuck no. There's something more important. The most important thing we should remember and agree on.”

“I must be mad to ask you to elaborate, but please, do tell?”

“My lord...we should definitely knock from now on.”

 


	14. XIV

Night 5

“You bastard. You disgusting, twisted ….you murderer, you were his death! You killed Jane and now...now you....You never deserved him. I understood and he wanted you and you ...you don't know how to love. Sick, merciless being!”

Marissa reacts to something she sees. Makes her own ideas. Defends the one that loved her. 

Payne clutches her hands on her chest and suffers for her brother. The one who stands there, like on a cross, to be hated and judged. 

Every one pair of eyes in the Tomb sees the same and thinks the same. V did it. In their eyes, the scene shows the conclusion of V bonding to someone. To Butch. They always knew V was different. Never believed he could bond. In truth, he was never meant to. But he did. And now, Butch, his mate, is sucked dry, in a savage picture of unsuppressed blood lust. Emptied by the animal they hoped V wouldn't be, but seems he is. And the sight is horrifying. 

Something V refuses to look at again. He knows the shapes and the colors and the insanity of it all. So he stares ahead, into the eyes of his brothers, taking in their judgments. Of course he can read their thoughts. Of course every thought is another hit for him. They can't know. So they'll think the worst about him. 

From time to time he moves from emptiness to look in Payne's eyes, to make sure he can still see, and this is real, and it's his doing. Payne doesn't know if she could stand it, placed in the same situation. She watches like the Scribe Virgin would, impassible, frozen in a state of non-intervention and non-grief. On the outside, of course. In heart, she reaches for the pain in her brother. Too try and soothe him, to try and keep him sane and remind him this is not the end. 

Walking into the Tomb, the place for their rituals and the place for their stone names, Vishous carried the burden in his arms. Payne wasn't allowed to help. She tried. The body of his cop was the only burden V would never let go. Who needs free arms? 

Marissa seems to need free arms and for the first time, she uses one. She puts all her force behind that slap and she collapses as soon as V's skin being hit is heard by everyone. The brothers could follow her lead, could follow the twisted ritual to hit him for what he did, the anti ritual of induction. 

V doesn't care. Doesn't move and will never shed a tear. When the Brotherhood was announced to show up at the Tomb, they expected to get it started with the strategy for the night and the war to follow. Instead, they found V, a bloody mess, feral, a incarnation of Munch's “Scream” without the scream. He stood hunched over a body bitten god knows how many times. Butch's body. 

They tried to get close to the cop, but he never let them. Payne watched this all play out, just as her brother asked from her. “Do your job, don't come near him and make sure I don't kill anyone.” He asked because he wasn't sure how he'll react. For the first time, he wasn't sure how the terror will affect him. And he asked her to be near, because only she can know and only she can help. And, in case everything goes bad, she can save what's left to save. 

Vishous can't take more of this. She can only imagine what his insides feel like, needing to burst, retching, trying to contain the light of his power. Liters and liters of Butch's blood mixing with his own. He's desperately trying to keep it in while his body revolts. 

And he tries to stop his mind being crushed by the accusations in the air. Payne doesn't want to pity him, because he can feel her, but the sight is nauseating to the ones there and crushing for her. 

Just a little longer and it will all be over. Like he said.

“ _They can't fight to mend our mistakes.”_

“ _I don't want a war either, but what can we do?”_

“ _I didn't call you here to bitch about my face, sister mine. I called you because I found a way.”_

_She read the passage in an old book Vishous presented her. It was vague and troubling and she wished with all her heart it will work._

“ _Is he...”_

“ _He already agreed.“_

“ _And you are certain you can do this? To him?_

“ _It's either this or endless nights of counting casualties. He'll be fine.”_

“ _And you?”_

“ _I don't count.”_

“ _You do for him.”_

_Vishous looks back towards the car and with all the night sounds, he feels confused. But from inside the car Butch shows him a thumbs up and points to the entrance of the Tomb._

“ _We'll do it.”_

“ _What do I have to do?”_

“ _Make sure the Omega comes to enjoy the show.”_

The King makes another attempt to get Butch's lifeless body away from V. V snarls at him. 

“Payne, please, make him let go. We need to bury him. Clean him.”

And that earns another growl, reverberating from wall to wall and ending in a pathetic sound of grief and exhaustion. As an alarm for darkness, this sound pleases the newly arrived special guest.

The Omega stands near V's collapsed body, ethereal claw in the males hair. 

“You called. I came. Can I call you sister now?” 

Payne hears before she can see the panic in the others. The metal sound of daggers, useless, the tension in the muscles in vain. They are here only as bait, as distraction. When Vishous told her this part of the plan, she opposed it. 

“ _I can't risk all their safety for this.”_

“ _I can. And I will. All I have to do is call Wrath and tell him everything. He'll be there. With or without you calling him.”_

“ _Brother mine, why do you do this? Why involve them?”_

“ _To fucking protect them. Spare them a war.”_

“ _By killing your mate and expose everyone to danger?”_

“ _Don't you get it? It has to look real. That motherfucker won't believe less. I know I wouldn't.”_

And she knew he was right. Just as she knows it takes all the power of concentration her brother possesses to keep his mind logical and don't let the emotional get in the way. Even if an emotion drove him to do this. The something he feels for that ex-human, the something that makes him want to give the male a better life, free of endless fights and constant danger of being wounded or see his mate hurt. 

V does this out of love. She wonders if he knows it. 

“So, you want to discuss the terms of a surrender, I understand?”

“Not a surrender, a peace treaty. I can't have my race extinguished.”

“So you want a Dheal. So much like your mother.”

Payne squeezes the hand of her hellren, keeping him safe, him keeping her calm and pushes on, just a few more words, as the Omega scans the room and divides its attention. 

“Do they know I can't be killed now? I see your precious Dhestroyer is...well, destroyed? I knew the Bloodletter's son will not be capable of love. He's so much like me. I like to play dirty too. And this is so beautifully dirty. 

“Leave him alone. Tell the king you terms.”

“The King? I have no intention of making a treaty with the King. You have something I want. Not him.”

Wrath wants to say something. Thankfully, Beth keeps him away and quiet. She's worried about them all. The brothers and all in fighting mode, but it's hard to fight when you don;t have all the data. And your enemy is smoke. But she needs them here to give her power and takes some from the Omega. 

Being here makes the evil care for itself, and the divided attention diminishes it's powers. While Payne has more, because of the males and females of her race, thinking in unison. At the end, she'll take from all of them some force to try and save them.

This is it. Payne sees the moment coming closer. 

“Name your conditions.”

“It's quite easy. I want your demigod brother. Look at him. If he lives, he'll dwell in a personal hell for killing his mate. If he dies, he'll have to come to my Dhund. All I ask is for you to not interfere. It's his destiny, you see... to be there. So what if the interpretation of that destiny is a little...creative?”

“He was destined to be the ruler of the Dhund, not a condemned soul.”

“Like I said...creative interpretation. Take it or leave it.”

“What do we get instead.”

The Omega concentrates on Payne and for a second she fears that she seemed to eager and the plan is compromised. But them the Omeha laughs, a sickening sound of agony and points to the outside.

“I'll only change the humans my lessers find willing. Offer eternal life only to those who will personally give me their hearts in exchange for it.”

“Free will.”

“Yes, one of our Father's favorite. What do you say?”

She waits...any moment know. Prays Vishous still has the strength. Now, it has to be now.

“Take this as my pledge to honor this Dheal.”

She opens her robe and uses her own dagger to cut deep into her flesh, near her womb, like the tradition asks for the mother of the race. Blood runs down into a cup and she moves faster than anyone can follow near the dark shadow. 

She waits for the Omega to unveil himself and do the same. This ritual was what her brother found in that old book. The ritual of the Dheal, the only time the Omega could be caught unveiled. The moment they are waiting for. 

And it happens, mad winds start out of nowhere and the robe moves aside slowly, carefully, but just enough for Vishous to throw himself inside the evil specter. He's sucked like in a black hole and the Omega quickly covers himself back, mad to the point of implosion.

“What are you doing? What is this? How could he do that? What did you do?”

“I didn't do anything. My brother did. He just killed you.”

“Only the Dhestroyer can do it. And he's no more.”

“Oh, he's alive. Barely. What matters is that all his blood is inside my brother. A demigod, as you said. With my powers, our mother's powers. The Dhestroyer never needed to raise his hand at you and sacrifice himself in order to destroy you. All he needed to do, the prophecy says, you said, was give his blood. And he did. All of it. To the most powerful among us. He defeated you. They defeated you.”

She tries to smile and look into the abyss of that shadow, to see it die. And be brave, telling the dark god time has run out. But tears fall down her face without her wanting, because she can feel Vishous scream in agony inside. Scream and tear himself apart. And the Omega might be defeated, but how long will it take to disappear forever and release her brother? 

“You cheated. Father will-”

“You said it yourself shadow. Father abandoned you. Now do us all a favor and begone.”

 

***

 

Vihous screams. Vishous falls. 

Stay calm. Release the blood. Cut. Deeper. Again. 

Thousands of cuts cover his arms and any other part of the body he can reach with his mouth. 

Release the blood. His blood. My blood. Poison the darkness.

Don't think, don't be afraid. 

Fear died somewhere in that camp, in the cold, raped to death by will. I have that. I'm a fucking genius. And this will work. Calm, keep calm and wait. No, ignore the sounds coming out of you. You is not you. Your body is not you. You can't suffer if you stay in your mind. 

Think back. At how you go into the car. How he looks at you, impossible to read fear, when you know he feels it and isn't that just the core of what he is? Think about how his hair feels and the color in his eyes feels and the taste of his lips before the blood started to drown everything in cooper. 

And V does fall inside the darkness, but locks himself inside his mind. Thinking about the only thing worth coming back for. And about earlier, when in between limbs and saliva and car leather, they decided to not let death ruin their start. It's almost helping. Almost making the agony fade in the background of the mind, in the body. 

So he keeps going. 

Going back to how Butch says “Do it” to both his sacrileges. To the thoughts he shares because he can't keep them inside. Not along with Butch's blood. Too insane to ever say them, they are now out, loud. “I want your blood in me and my blood in you, even if it kills us” and “I want to be inside you every day until you die, until I die, and more than anything now, while you die and I kill you”.

Enormous profanities, perversions, and yet Butch says yes. Maybe it's the loos of blood, maybe the surplus in him, but then his cop says is again- “Do it” - and the dance starts, not that he thought he'll ever dance. Not that this is truly a dance. But he can't call it fuck, can't name it sex, it's death at the most sublime level. One bite. One kiss. One thrust. Another bite, ten hundred other bites, to every vein, kiss his every vein. Ask forgiveness. Receive more willingness. 

Bleeding Butch out while moving inside him. Hot, tight, resisting. Words to describe every pore on this body he loves, he fucking loves to insanity, beyond insanity, in a place where it all makes sense again and he craves, Jesus, he craves more than anything, until there's one last breath from that mouth, contentment, surrender, and he comes, shuttering to the atoms who make him, him. 

Then there is not even a piece of flesh hard on Butch's body and he feels like dead, only that he isn't and he'll never be, not if V can help it.

And he can swear he heard an I love you, well maybe not swear, but he thinks he did and it may be wishful thinking, not the he needs to hear that from his cop to know it's true, because words can be misunderstood and can make you look dumb and ...fuck, words don't matter, but right now, when he imagines that he heard an I love you, he feels like a mad genius scientist discovering life on an alien planet and deciding that the best thing he wants to do in life is sell his soul and go live there with microbes and everything else alien. 

He feels like that, like he can push harder and go live inside Butch. An alien in his own, perfect to the core, because he's imperfect. But he can't, even if Butch has room for him inside, now that all his blood is missing and he can't because he promised, he promised he'll give it back and pay interest. So he kisses the donor body again, over and in between bites, closer to the faint boom of the heart, listening how his cop, unconscious, still tells him everything will be okay.

Everything will be okay. His mind tells him, not his body. His mind who calculated the risks and variables, not his body who can't tell the difference between pain and pleasure right now. To remember them he has to go back to the moment when he was inside his lover. 

That was pleasure. But also pain. To be complete and be undone at the same time, to take every block of life the other offers and make yourself whole to fit inside him, while deconstructing the other to fit inside you, it's both pain and pleasure. For him, it was forever like this, pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. 

And it's not wrong and it's not impossible to ask. Because he now has someone who says “Do it” even to his darkest needs and he can say “I want to suck you dry” or “I want you to take me someday in front of a window, when the sun rises and I want you to make me come just as the sun burns my skin, maybe that's how I'll be able to keep you”. He can say those things and others, not as crazy and his cop, with his mind-blowing courage and trust will look him in the eyes, curse a little, smile a lot and say “Do it”. 

And he needs to go back to that. 

NOW!

 

***

 

Rhage paces. It's not catwalk paces, but a mix of anxious, confused and out of his element kind of pacing, seventeen steps from wall to wall. Doc Manello is still inside with Vishous and the cop. Hopefully, performing a miracle. Because what he saw tonight needed a fucking miracle to get things back to normal. 

The moment the Omega appeared was the first time Rhage wished he had his inner Godzilla still lurking around. Because helpless was not a state a things popular with him. Or any of the brothers. And that was exactly how they were. Spectators to a freak show. With Butch believed to be dead, Vishous going supernova after being sucked inside the Omega ans Payne playing the double agent. No question, it's been a plan and they were on need to know basis. V's plan, obviously, which meant they knew nothing. 

So they witnessed everything, minutes that seemed like hours and even days, until the brightest light almost made it day into the dark tomb and for the first time they saw what the sun might look like. A sun that cursed, because he heard V's voice, amplified and filled with hate, putting the final words on the Omega's grave stone.

“ _Enjoy nothingness and know that Dhestroyer, son of Dhander and my mate, sent you there.”_

After his eyes adjusted, Rhage saw V standing where the Omega stood, holding the cop's body in his arms. He heard about the prophecy, and knew V was supposed to be the Omega now, so he feared that maybe the male will change. 

There was a change, a barely visible permanent shadow in his bright diamond eyes. Rhage knew V, so he could tell it was there. He figured it was the look of a male who saw and felt everything; death, the afterlife, the bond, the loss, the despair, the relief. All at once. 

The Scribe Virgin...or Payne, as she insisted they call her, and Manny were with V. Helping him bring Butch back. Rhage makes a mental note: ask the cop about the afterlife. Because the guy was an usual visitor, with two almost deaths in as many days. Crazy cop. Vishous was always there, to bring him back. The stubborn bastard would never let go, he'll defy death for his friend...lover...whatever.

Now he was giving the blood he took back to the rightful owner. The blood he took by biting him a thousand times. Machines helped with the transfer this time. Another round of bite and suck was out of the question, the cop was too far gone to react when V sliced his already scared arms and dripped red on his mouth. 

Jesus, Rhage almost believed, almost doubted V's sanity when he saw that body there, in the Tomb. Butch was dirty and scared, looking like roadkill and with no sign of life. He resents the fact he doubted. He should have trusted his friends. He'll say sorry some day. Maybe let V beat him at Foosball. Or give him an extra bucket of popcorn. As soon as they both were out of the clinic, he'll do that. And remember to knock first.

Now back to pacing. Seventeen steps to the left, seventeen to the right, avoiding other bodies that did the same. 

***

Beep. Beep. Beep. Annoying like hell. But if it's annoying, then it's life, and alive sounds very good right now. 

Everything is dry, like the fucking Sahara relocated inside his mouth. He tries to speak, not to ask for anything liquid, but to make sure he still has a voice.

“V.”

He says that first word not because he needs to hear the male, not because he'll grab onto that voice for dear life, but because it's the shortest meaningful word he can think of. Yeah right, that's bullshit. He needs to hear V.

“I'm here, cop.”

Of course he is. Did he ever doubt it? Even if he can't see, or feel yet, he can smell the spices that help him trace V on every map. Eyes closed. 

“Dying is not fun.”

“You don't like my idea of a romantic date? I'm hurt.”

“Fuck...you, V.”

And a smile creeps to his dry lips. Smiling hurts too, but it's worth it. It's his statement that the closed eyes don't mean he's dead. His sign of life.

“Maybe not just yet.”

Butch knows V answers his cursing. And images of being completely taken, filled and emptied at the same time by his mate, play behind his eyelids. 

“Sex with you will kill me.”

Silence. And now he really tries to open his eyes. To make sure Vishous understands it's a joke. He sees him. Standing completely still near the bed. Is it even possible for V to be more present, more ….more, the center of everything? The same words comes back: beautiful. Mine.

Then he notices. The change. 

“What happened there?”

“You wake up from the dead, again, and you don's ask if the bastard I had to kill you for is gone? If my plan worked?” 

“You wouldn’t be here otherwise. You're a determined mofo. You'll outlive your life span to make sure your bigger plan is complete. So yeah, I know those. Now tell me what's that.”

He tries to point, but his arm needs its sleep and surely V knows what he's talking about. The tattoos on his face. They changed. 

“Like it?”

“I can see they're different. But I still can read ancient. And I still don't care if they're a warning.”

“They are. A warning. A little different. Like a tag. You know, you had a badge with name and number. I have this.”

“They say: Vishous, BAMF and property of Butch O'Neal?”

V's laugh makes life real and it's harder and harder to just lay there, half his body asleep. 

“Close enough. They go along the lines of Beware, this is the king of hell.”

“Classy.”

“Glad you like it.”

“And your hand? Any new ink?”

“Nope. That one still says death.”

“Not to me. And your...”

“My groin? I'll teach you ancient and you can read those yourself.”

“It may take a while to learn. Might need to look at them up close, and very often.”

“It's okay, I'll sacrifice myself for your education.”

“I may need to use a pen.”

“Cop, if you can recover as quickly as your filthy mind comes up with innuendo, you can have a go at it tonight.”

They smile at the easiness of the conversation and the easiness of life. Butch thinks he can get used to this. 

“No more dying tho.”

“You're the one who keeps doing it. You're into some freaky shit for a good catholic Irishman. All you can blame me is that I like pain.”

And Butch can't help but grin again. More of this and he'll get wrinkles. What's another line on his face, added to the collection on his body. At least, he thinks the bite marks are still there, he can vaguely feel them. 

“No, Payne healed them.”

He should be grateful. Instead, there's panic. 

“Relax. Not all of them are gone.”

For once, he agrees to V barging inside his mind and answering his questions even before he can formulate them. He needed to know the scar above his heart is still there. V's palm print. The answer came sooner via telepathy and anyway, he doubts he can utter another word until he'll get some water. As an almost instant order, a glass pushes against his lips and he drinks, content and amused. 

“This reading of minds trick-”

“-is not a trick.”

“Anyway, it comes in handy for the...nurse Vishous routine.”

“Will come in handy to know what a good old fashioned male has in his dirty mind and can't say out loud.”

Indeed, it will come in handy. Because what they did these days was hardcore and even if he'll be up for more soon, he'll have trouble asking. Time to change the subject, because he needs all the blood he can get in his heart and head, not in ...other areas. 

“So...you're the Omega.”

“Don't call me that. Ever.” 

The tone is not harsh, but serious and Butch agrees the title doesn't suit V. He's gonna have a laugh bulshitting Rhage into calling V your majesty or a similar derivative.

“So then...you have a castle or palace to take me to?”

“I know you're high maintenance piece of vamp, but the Pit will have to suffice.”

“It does have the appropriate name. Ominous. The PIT. Might scare people off. No more movie Thursday.”

“Rhage is a little confused at the moment anyway. Will take him a while to barge in on us again.”

“He is?”

“Yeah. Hard to deal with news of your friends getting it on, then seeing one looking like he killed the other, then finding out one is back from the dead and the other is the replacement for the enemy.”

“Poor Rhage. His mind must need sugar.”

“True. I can hear its wheels power sliding from way over here.”

“So that mind tri- sorry, that power, works with everyone.”

“Be grateful. You'll forever avoid embarrassing situation. You now have your own personal proximity alert system.”

“I like the sound of that. Especially the my own.”

“Yeah, cop, me too.”

The door opens and Manny steps inside, the same contagious smile Butch has plastered over his face.

“Welcome back bro.”

“Nice to see you ugly mug again too.”

And it's just that. Banter between brothers, no more drama in it, no more thoughts as to the why and how. The trauma of the rejected child was replaced with relief of a life he chooses now.

“Butch my man, I'm so happy stupid doesn't run in the family. Because let me tell you, donating ALL your blood is never a good idea for a present.”

“But a hell of an idea for a weapon.” Vishous replies with a touch of smugness and pride, still resting his hand and eyes on the cop's body. 

“Well, I took the stupidity and good looks, you got the skills. Not a bad deal.”

“Word. Now...don't throw a fit, oh king of the damned, but someone needs to explain what just happened to the family. Payne is surrounded.”

Normaly, V wouldn't wait for the doc to end his sentence to start a barbeque. But now he smiles like a pimped version of a devil, all shadows and implications and man, it's useless for Butch to fight the symptoms of head over heals. 

Of course, he'll never say those words, or anything else clinically sweet. Instead, he'll give his blood -all of it- if needed, he'll risk his life, redefine stupid and never leave the male's side. Much better than words. Yeah, so much better. 

“Are you high on his blood? See goatee, I told you he doesn't need this much?”

“You gave me your blood?”

“Who the fuck else's? It's yours anyway.”

And isn't that just another reason to smile. Imagine V tied up to a machine and him at the other end. A highway of blood. Not the very best way to take blood back-not even close to what the first experience was- but close enough. He likes it more and more to be inside himself now. 

“Cop, you think you can stay away from the pearly gates for two minutes. I gotta save my sister.”

“Fuck you V, and even if I die, you'll find me at the gates of your hell. Might be a good idea to give me the keys beforehand.”

“Smart ass fucker.”

“To the end.”

Life is good. In a hospital bed, dehydrated, watching the male you bonded walking away and knowing he'll come back. Always. Life should have been like this. Without the twists and turns and fails. But this turned up to be their story and, looking back at the past few days, he wouldn't change a thing. 

Call him idiot and selfish and blue-collar, recycled vampire. See if he cares, when that mad genius, dangerous to the bone, one of a kind male chose him as he is. Fuck compromises and stereotypes. Give him V any day, everyday and he'll be happy. Imagine that.

No, seriously, lay back and imagine that. Butch O'Neal happy. And Vishous, son of the Bloodletter, humming inside his veins, feeling the same. Not everything is right and fair, but sometimes, if you try a little and forget about everything else, open your eyes and take the leap, it can be. 


	15. XV

Epilogue

 

Wooden texture under my fingertips. Fire. Contain fire. Restrain the power with mind. Easier now. Everything is easier. Even leaving you alone. 

Veins pulse under the weight of my blood, your blood. Hours passed, memories linger along with the taste of you and the feel of you. All mine, all present and colored bright in every moment you're here. Here, as in the catholic church on Fifth Av. 

“Need another moment?”

“Yes V, now shut up.”

You amuse me and I do shut up, just to smirk and annoy you even more. Hey, you said shut up, I did, smirking is not talking, suck it up. You smile back, cap off, your jaw inviting, the hint of that maddening dimple. Bastard. 

“I have something for you, V.”

“You mean something more than your perfect dating manners?”

I wait. You should say “this is not a date” and act all flustered or move on without a flinch. You don't. You intrigue me. One would think that having telepathic powers takes the surprises out of the everyday life. With you, everyday life is frustratingly defying the habit. 

I wait, as blank as a normal person. Normal is fine now. Abnormal is even better, but you'll find that out later tonight, when I'll have something for you. For now, I don't intrude. You have that “don't come near my mind” face and I know better than to force my way in. 

You present a box. Wood (98%), metal (1.5%), sweat. Yours. It looks small. May be by comparison to your -beautiful- right hand. May be that is just that. A small wood box. A puzzle. And I love puzzles. Just as much as I do your face when you look like that, partly vulnerable and just a little out of place and still stubborn enough to hold you ground. I reach my hand, you reach yours. Symmetry, reaction to action. 

“Well, don't fucking stare at it. You may be half medium, but you don't have x-ray vision.”

Ah, yes, your impeccable manners and renowned patience. You're in a hurry? No, you're just unsure. Your smallest reactions, changing and transforming, could keep me entertained for days. You don't have days, you want me to look inside now. But I want to play. See if you can remember. I do. I remember everything. 

[" _I still can't believe this."_

_"Just open the damn thing."_

_"I really can't—"_

_"Open. It." At this point, V was twitchy enough to levitate out of his frickin' chair. The cop triggered the solid-gold lock mechanism and lifted the top. Lying on a bed of red satin were four matching black-bladed daggers, each precisely weighted to Butch's specs and honed to a lethal edge._

_"Holy Mary, Mother of God… They're beautiful."_ ]

It went like that. Let's play cop. Catch up. 

“I really can't-”

“Just open the damn thing.”

There you go. You remember. That smile shows me you do. 

“Is it a dagger? Must be the world smallest?”

“No, and fuck you. I've spent the last two weeks working on them.”

“Them?” Intriguing. Hold on. “Working? For two weeks? When the hell did you do that?”

“Oh come on. It's not like we're together all the time.”

Aren't we? Sure, I have to do my king of the underworld bizz and keep souls in check, and you go out on the streets -fucking stressful- to wipe out the remaining lessers, but …

“And when you say work...you mean my forge?”

“Vishous, for the love of God and all the angels, open the motherfucking box.”

Click. 

“Cop...” Brain freeze or better yet overload. Is this...Like...This means...

“I make good bread, too.”

“No,” as in no, this is not a joke, you can't joke about this, joking time is over, because I can't even restart my brain. 

“They're not the fine things you're used to, but it's the same material as the daggers and I felt like doing them and I nearly burned all my fingers – health hazard, that forge- and anyway, it's not like a ...marriage proposal or anything and you don't have to wear it and you know, now would be a fucking good idea to say SOMETHING.

“Yes.” Because I know that's what they say, humans, and because it's always YES for you, except for when you'll ask me to kill you again, I'll never ever do that, but this is not about that so this is YES, and it's the most exquisite thing I saw in my entire life and I must have caught the idiot virus on the way here-must be drafty-because I'd do everything for you, but I can't articulate enough words to say how this makes me feel. 

“You're right. It's stupid. They aren't good enough.”

He tries to take the one I squeeze in my hand. Mine. Haven't noticed, but my body is overcharged, so when he touches me, sparks fly. Not a metaphor, I don't do metaphors. 

“Cop, touch it and I'll bite your hand off.” 

Hazel eyes lock into mine. Can you see what I think about this? Focus, for once, be the one who reads thoughts. Because we don't say words like love and amazing and mesmerized out loud. We fight and we fuck and we bite and that's how we know it's all there. Read me, cop. Because I can't tell you what this means to me.

*** 

Phone on silent, leathers inconspicuous at this hour, and sober as an iceberg. Who the hell needs drinks when he can't think of one moment he wanted to drown in these two weeks since they got out of the clinic, blood shared in equal parts.

Best place to be. Blame his upbringing and his sappy sense of romance, but yeah, best place for Butch to take the male he'll spend the rest of his life with. A month ago, he was right here, ripping hair out of his head and chunks of wood out of the benches – they fixed that- and now he needs to do this.

It was on an impulse. V is the man with the plan. Butch just does. And he did. Sneaked day after day, whenever he found the time and took a 1 on 1 course in forging. One on one meaning he burned his fingers in that order. But fuck him, he did it. At the end, he held two very much not identical bands of black. 

Dagger material was a bitch to try and shape, but gold seemed cheesy and silver cheap and platinum too serious, so yeah, this black metal was perfect, even if the end result wasn't. 

With healed scars on his fingers and not so healed chewed lips, Butch asked V to join him here. There wasn't much of a struggle to convince the male, No wasn't on their vocabulary anymore. 

Except that time when he asked V to go say sorry to Rhage, after the male walked in on them – he never does learn to knock, does he?- and V almost fried his ass. Oh, and that time when Butch wanted to move one of V's computers to make room for his Playstation. But that was all. Yes on everything else, from whatever you can think of that starts with “Do you want to...” and ends with “...now?”.

They drove here and good thing the car had a manual to keep his trembling hands busy, because fuck him if could lie about the why once asked. So, thank you God for that. 

He tried to think of some words to say and make this seem less official and not very important and the fact that he does it in a church to seem like convenience, not a plan and man, he wishes he's have V's brain, because he can't find one thing to change this. 

And V was now holding the -not so perfect- fruit of his labor and looked like a child -how can he look like that?- on the first day of winter, when if snows with big fluffy flakes and it's still warm enough to run barefoot and never catch a cold. Shit...his mind is derailing.

He sees it there, on that face, with brand new warning tattoos, in those diamond eyes that leave you breathless. The answer to his question. He wasn't expecting a Yes. Maybe a “Thank you”, maybe even a kiss. That look topped everything. Even breathing. 

***

“Knock knock.”

“We're decent.”

“Are you sure? Your definition of decent might be a little different than mine.”

“Fuck you Rhage, if you wanna stay there, I'll be kind and give you a chair and crack the door for you to see the TV.”

“Nahhh...I smell popcorn, not sweaty steamy sex, so I'll just come in.”

And he does. And he still looks anywhere but at the two. Just to be sure. After the last experience, Hollywood can do without the visuals of two bonded males getting it on. Not that he minds. He actually doesn't. Somehow, it felt right to know them together and nothing much changed. Well, except for that visual now stuck to his retina. 

Butch is sprawled on the couch and V does the honors with the preparing junkfood. Butch likes that. A lot. And he likes the fact that one of the bedrooms is now a toy room, with V moving almost all his...gear from the Commodore. No need for a place to go and hide now. No need at all. 

So Butch is more like home than ever and feels just a little bit like the host tonight, so he reaches to pour a glass for Rhage. And that is pretty much all he needs to do to set the male on fire. 

“Holly fuck. You're married. Like human married. With the ring and all.”

“Rhage...”

“Shit...this is big. Huge. And a little offensive, because I wasn't invited and I always wanted to go to a human wedding. Mary too. Fuck you guys. But you know, not fuck you, fuck you, but, you know...Hell, just wait 'till I tell-”

“Rhage!”

“What?! What? I'm excited, so shoot me.”

“That's not called excited, it's sugar rush.”

“Yeah but...MARRIED. With rings and everything...can I see that? It looks-”

“Be very careful what you say next.”

“What! Man, you need to relax a little. I was going to say it's wicked.” 

“Next thing you know, you'll want one.”

“Can I get one?”

“NO!”

“NO!”

Two voices now. V coming back from the kitchen, Butch sees him walking like ready to jump the pray. Rhage has no idea. 

“Guess it's not a secret anymore, V,” the cop says for his mate to hear, while trying to get the hand back from Rhagem who won't stop going for it. 

“Yeah, can't hide a thing from Veronica Mars here.”

“Nope, no chance.”

“I see everything. I'm like a telescope bros.”

“You mean a magnifying glass. A _telescope_ is an instrument that aids in the observation of remote objects by collecting electromagnetic radiation.”

“And fuck you too V. the point is nothing gets past me. So it's true. Maaarrrieeed.”

Butch gets his hand back from the male who grabbed it and turned it face up, face down, examining the ring.

“Hollywood, how do you like your smell?”

“What's that gotta do with anything? I'm washed, smell of Rhage essence and a whole lot of Mary. Priceless.”

The next time Vishous speaks, he's right behind Rhage. And this time, the self proclaimed see-it-all fails to see the threat coming. That is, until he's caught into a death grip.

Butch laughs and V smiles his predatory smile, while Rhage with all his power tries in vain to get free.

“I have a new fragrance I want you to try. It's called “Crisp dragon”. Catchy, wouldn't you say, cop?”

“You're the best with words.”

“Hey, guys, I was just messing with you. I'm happy for you, really. But I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to.”

“Don't tell anyone about what?”

The King is already inside the Pit -he'll learn to knock too, someday, even if he's the king-and Butch runs a hand over his face. Of course, Rhage can't help but be who he is. An oversized, in your face beautiful and aware of it child.

“They got hitched. Like in married. Check out the rings, sire.”

“You. Are. Dead.”

Vishous makes the grip a deadly one and the blond male fakes a faint. V let's go, Rhage escapes, jumps over the couch, nearly taking Butch with him, which only enrages the dark vampire, and goes for hiding behind Phury, who just appears in the door next to his twin. 

“Collateral victims it is.”

“No, thank you.”

Elegantly, Phury steps aside and Rhage has nowhere else to go, because Z looks absolutely deadly, and it's hard to chose between a hammer and a jack-hammer. 

“Look V, I'm sorry. I really am. Time out.”

“There's no time out in the face of death.”

“Come on man, you're taking this way too serious.” 

Only he isn't. Butch can recognize the peace in V. The same low hum of being with the brothers, joking around, taking a piss, torturing Rhage. Their kind of normality. Perfection.

So Butch makes himself comfortable again, the king cleans his glasses while mumbling “You're a fucking moron Rhage. How the fuck can I SEE the rings?“ and the other members of the Brotherhood step inside one by one, occupying empty spaces. Like a family should. 

V slaps Hollywood one more time, almost paternally and goes to sit beside his cop, a spot always left free. Ruffling his wet hair a little and murmuring a “you could have helped”, he's not very serious about it, but very much serious about the smile he gives. Just as the lights go down, a hand reaches into the dark, caressing a patch of soft skin. 

“One more thing. It's really bugging me. Who's the wife?”

“You're dead Hollywood.”

“No, wait V, let me handle this. Rhage... honey, that spot is still opened. You offering?”

Silence, smothered laughs and that hand still in place, running slow circles. 

Yeah...perfection. 

 


End file.
